


Fingfur

by Incido



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (Talk about) Mpreg, BAMF Fingfur, Fingfur is oblivious, Gruffy Dwalin, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incido/pseuds/Incido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is Fingfur. He is reborn as a Dwarf, but still quite young when Erebor falls. He is older than Fili, Kili and Ori though. When he wants to join the Company Dwalin protests heavily. Why? And how come Fingfur is more at home with the Hobbit than with the other Dwarrows? Slash! Please read! MPREG (Mentions)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fingfur

Fingfur clung to the Dwarrow who had saved him. He was unaware whether his parents were still alive or Dragon food. He tried to keep quiet so as not to get the Dragon’s attention. He had never in all his lives seen a dragon that big. Tears were streaming down his face. It was not that strange, he was only thirty-four after all, it would take him another thirty-six years to be a grown-up. He watched as their prince called for aid from the Elves, but was rejected. The Dwarrows moved quickly to the other side of the long lake and the king and princes started making sure everyone was okay. The Dwarrow who held him moved towards the princess who was standing nearby. He handed Fingfur over to her: “Here, take him. I’m not sure if he has any family left.”

She took him and went to find his family.

* * *

 

They were dead. His parents and brother were dead. There was no sign of them anywhere, not even of his grandparents. He was taken in by a woman called Kishel, who had lost her child in the attack. Fingfur set out to become the best fighter he could be and take revenge on the Dragon who took his family from him.  
That he had regained his magic while growing up only helped.

* * *

 

“I want to help” Fingfur said, his eyes stubborn as he stared right into the blue eyes of his king.

“You are too young, and you have no family to protect you” the king’s second in command grunted at him.

Fingfur glowered at him: “I am old enough, I am older than Fili or Kili or Ori! What right do they have that I do not? I was there when Erebor fell! I remember my parents! They died there, as did my brother! I have as much right as any Dwarrow to come!”

“We cannot deny him this, Dwalin” Thorin said: “He is right. I asked for willing Dwarrows, and seeing as he is one, we shall take him with us.”

“Give up” Dwalin snarled as he grabbed Fingfur’s collar: “You are not coming with us. End of story.”

Fingfur felt his eyes almost begin to water but he ignored it and said: “It’s not your business whether I come or not. You are not my mother, or my father. I have no relation to you. If I want to go only my adopted mother could stop me, and she already said I could go. So back off!” He turned around and left. He had some things to prepare in order to leave with them within the month.

* * *

 

He got the letter three weeks later. It stated that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield would meet up at Bag End, Hobbiton, the Shire. He had never been there before, but he knew where the Hobbits lived. Surely it would not be that difficult to find.

* * *

 

It was actually quite easy, but he was not the first Dwarrow in the house, by the sounds of it. It seemed there was quite the merry gathering going on inside. He knocked loudly so they would hear them and bowed when a Hobbit opened the door. “Fingfur, son of Lesur, at your service.”

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours” the harried Hobbit said, he looked as if he had given up on something.

“Are you alright?” Fingfur asked politely: “You look pale.”

“Oh, yes, I’m quite…” the Hobbit started before he shook his head: “Actually, this is awful! What are you doing here? They ransacked the pantry! There’s mud on the floor and the toilet doesn’t work!” he sniffled and then sobbed.

Fingfur frowned but closed the door behind him and threw an arm around Mr Baggins. “Mr Baggins, let me escort you to your bedroom so you may rest for a while, it must’ve been a shock to have all these Dwarves on your doorstep.” He shuffled with the Hobbit towards his bedroom. He kept the commentary running about how awful it must’ve been and tucked the Hobbit in his bed.

“You rest here, and I’ll see about your toilet and carpets. Don’t worry, I’ll have them fixed in no time!” Fingfur said. He smiled at the tired Hobbit – emotionally exhausted probably – and left for the loo. A quick reparo fixed the loo at once and some scourgifies were enough to clean out the carpet. He then went towards where all the chatter came from and stood in the door opening until the Dwarrows went silent one by one at his glowering look.

“I hope you are pleased” he said in a voice that would sent chill over a Dementor, never mind these Dwarrows. “Our host is in his bed, worried sick. You have eaten his food and repaid him by destroying his home and ransacking his pantry. I really hope you are pleased with yourselves. I have seen Dwarrows do really strange things, but this… this is the worst! I can’t believe you gave the poor Hobbit a nervous breakdown. I don’t think he’d willingly go anywhere with you lot.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway as the others began shouting at him.

Fili, Kili and Ori were the only ones who seemed to know better than to annoy him. Especially Dwalin, who roared at him to go home if he did not like it, seemed to have it out for him.

“Enough!” Fingfur called and they all startled and went quiet.

The knock on the door was easier heard this time. Fingfur turned and walked to the door, Gandalf and the Dwarves following him. He opened the door and stared at his king, before he bowed and let him in.

“Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find, I almost lost my way, twice” Thorin said and handed his cloak to Fingfur, who hung it away. “Where is our host?” he then asked.

“In bed” Fingfur said, his tone cold: “The Company decided to give him a nervous breakdown.”

Thorin turned to the others, glaring especially at Kili and Fili.

“Don’t glare at us!” Kili said: “The others were just as bad as us!”

“They should’ve adjusted to better manners” Fingfur growled: “I have never seen a worse party. They just stormed in here and ransacked his pantry. It is good I cleaned the rugs and fixed the loo, because it was a disaster.”

There was a shuffling behind them and there stood Bilbo Baggins, his clothes rumpled from lying in bed. He shuffled with tired eyes towards Fingfur and grabbed the back of his shirt.

“Wha’’s going on?” he asked in a sleepy voice.

“Mr Baggins, please let me introduce Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of our Company.”

Thorin nodded his head as a small bow. Bilbo blinked with tired eyes up at him: “If you wan’ foo’, think they eat it all” he gestured to the other Dwarves before slowly falling towards the wall. Fingfur grabbed him and the Hobbit fell against him, his eyes closed. Fingfur glared at the other Dwarrows and gathered Bilbo in his arms bridal style and after a nod to Thorin moved to put him back in bed. He was unsure whether it was wise to bring the Hobbit with them at all. He looked so small in the bed. Fingfur brushed his hand over the Hobbit’s forehead. He closed his eyes and felt with his senses. They needed this Hobbit to succeed, so he hoped that Dwalin would not be so against him as he had been against Fingfur joining them. He pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead and sneaked out of the room.

He was more affectionate than normal Dwarrows, especially towards people he had never met before, but that did not bother him. He was who he was and he knew who he could trust and who should never be trusted. The Dwarrows of the Company could be trusted, though he would never trust Nori with anything valuable, except for his life. Gold and silver Nori might take, but lives were something even he saw worth saving.

Fingfur joined the others in the dining room and watched as Thorin ate his stew. He watched silently as Thorin was handed the key and Gandalf explained how he had gotten it and what it was for. Fingfur nodded while thinking, they had a way to get in. Now they just needed a way to slay a dragon. He rolled his eyes mentally, that would be no problem. He snorted, he did not know where the Hobbit came in exactly, but he hoped they would not trust him to do it. He was a Hobbit, not a Dragon Slayer.

“Something you would like to let us know, Fingfur?” Thorin asked.

“Yes” Fingfur answered: “I would like to know where a Hobbit fits in all this. Please tell me, I am dying to find out.”

“He’s our Burglar” Thorin answered: “He will get us the Arkenstone, so we may gather an army to get rid of the Beast.”

Fingfur thought of this: “Hobbits might make good Burglars, as they are light on their feet, but this one?” he pointed with his thumb behind him: “He had a nervous breakdown by you wrecking his pantry, I’m not sure this is the one.” He then remembered what he had felt just moments before in the bedroom: “Although he’s brave enough to let you in, I suppose. And he even let me in, after you ransacked the pantry.” He thought for a moment: “There’s no food left, is there?”

“Don’t think so” the Dwarrow with the hat said: “Bombur ate it all” he gestured to the fat Dwarrow at the end of the table. Fingfur had met neither of them. He also couldn’t remember the name of Ori’s older brother – though he was handsome for a Dwarrow – or the Dwarrow with the axe in his head.

Fingfur sighed.

“Have you not eaten?” Dwalin asked.

Fingfur wondered why he cared: “When was I supposed to eat? I have been looking after our host and trying to get you all to behave in his home. This is not a Dwarrow’s home, you should’ve thought of that before you started this party of yours. None of you even took off your boots!”

“You haven’t either” the Dwarrow with the hat said.

“But at least mine are clean” Fingfur said: “I cleaned them when I entered the Shire and I have walked on the paths, all I had to do was wipe my feet. Anyway, I’ll go see if there is something in the pantry or kitchen that you missed. Else I’ll have to do with my ration.” Fingfur left the dining room for the kitchen, and the Dwarrows started discussing things.

* * *

 

Later that evening Bilbo woke up to singing and he remembered that there was a kind Dwarf in the Company. He was still unsure whether he really wanted this, but after the thought of being left alone in his smial with his boring old life was enough to get him to get up and sign the contract. After he had done so the kind Dwarf put his hand on his shoulder, smiled and assured him he would not regret it.

Only later did he find out that the Dwarf’s name was Fingfur. There was also Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur – maybe relations of Fingfur since their names ended with -ur as well? –, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin and Gloin. He was never going to remember all their names, it would be impossible.

Also, they travelled on ponies. No respectable Hobbit would ever ride on a pony. Well, since he had gone on an adventure with Dwarves, he was hardly a respectable Hobbit any longer. He rode next to Fingfur, and the Dwarf was excellent company. He told stories the entire way. Stories that even Bilbo with his love of books had never heard before. Most of these stories were about wizards and witches and some had even princes and princesses in them. There was a story about a Beast who turned into a prince and even a story about three wizards who met Death. There were stories about Magical Creatures not even Bilbo had heard about. From the looks he got from the other Dwarves – especially the younger ones hung of his lips – neither had they.

“You have great imagination” Dwalin said, after Fingfur told of three wizard children who outsmarted a Troll: “But it is of no use to us in this journey.”

“I am sorry you feel that way” Fingfur spoke softly but then looked away from the Company out into the woods. He did not speak another word that day – except to thank Bombur for his meal. He did not even argue when Bilbo spread out his bedroll next to him, he only smiled and fell asleep like that.

* * *

 

Over the next couple of days neither Fingfur nor Bilbo rose in the esteem of the elder Dwarves. Dwalin was muttering they held up everything by sleeping when everyone else was already awake. They did not even have a Watch during the night. They also hardly did any work, but disappeared off somewhere every time they stopped for the night. Only the first Watch often saw them enter the camp again. Wages were being taken whether the two were sneaking off to get to know each other better. Every time it was even mentioned Dori put his hands over Ori’s ears. It was a foul thing for Dwarves to even have sex with anyone but their One, and only with their One when they were fully bonded. Nevertheless they kept on leaving every night after dinner. Fingfur would later say they should’ve gone earlier, for they would’ve nothing had to do with the Trolls.

* * *

 

Kili and Fili roped Bilbo into helping to free the ponies, they did, however, totally forget to give him a weapon. When the elder Dwarves came to the rescue it did not take long for Bilbo to get captured and even less time for the Dwarves to surrender. Fingfur on the other hand was rolling his eyes from his spying place in the tree. There was only one thing for it. He would need to use a bit of magic. Well, Trolls did have a weakness – at least, these Trolls did. Sunlight. Wasn’t it perfect that Hermione had used that same spell on the Devil’s Snare in first year? Fingfur climbed out of the tree to rock that stood next to the Trolls. He ignored the silence that the Dwarves had suddenly made. He whistled sharply and the Trolls turned to him.

One of them asked – Fingfur thought it was Bill – the others: “Can we eat him too?”

“Lumus Solem!” Fingfur shouted and then quickly looked away as the bright light shone out of his hand. Very slowly the Trolls turned to stone. Fingfur grabbed his knife and started cutting down the Dwarves on the roast stick. He then freed the others from the bags and righted the Hobbit as he almost fell over.

“Are you okay, Mr Baggins?” he asked.

Bilbo nodded: “I feel fine, thank you, Mr Fingfur.”

“What was that light, where did it come from?” Dwalin grumbled at Fingfur.

Fingfur smiled and took a small glass vial from his pocket. It seemed to have water inside it but it glowed. He shook it in front of Dwalin: “Nicked it off an Elf once. The poor bugger didn’t know what hit him.” Of course he would not tell him that he could do Magic or that the poor Elf in question did not exist, for in the glass vial was the last of the tears of Fawkes.

“They could not have travelled in daylight” Thorin wisely concluded behind them: “Let’s search for a cave.”

In the cave – which smelled worse than Argus Filch the day before washing day, of which the Gryffindors were sure he only had twice a year – Fingfur found a small blade, probably made for an Elven prince, which would probably suit Bilbo perfectly. No more hand to hand combat in the evenings, but sword fighting. Bilbo did however, not have much of an arm, so perhaps Fingfur should train him with throwing knives or the bow first. He had hardly any skill with a bow, but it would be easier to come by than throwing knives.

Fingfur stood close by Bilbo when another Wizard joined them, he did not listen closely though, his gaze rested on Dwalin, who was glaring in his direction. He really could do no good in the eyes of that Dwarf, now could he?

A howl rang through the air and the Dwarves stiffened.

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo asked: “Are there wolves out there?”

“That is not a wolf” Fingfur said, just as Bofur said the same.

Thorin, Kili and Dwalin killed the Warg scouts after which they ran quickly.

Fingfur knew where they were being led by Gandalf but ignored it. The Elvish Magic may not feel pleasant on his skin – he was a Dwarf after all, and he remembered what Thranduil did – but they would be safe from Orcs in Rivendell. Fingfur could admit he needed to rest. The usage of his magic – wandless as well – and then the running from Orcs - even though he had not fought them yet - were taking their toll on his body. He huffed as they stopped once as they were nearly spotted, but then Gandalf led them to a tunnel and they were going to follow it, according to Bofur.

An Elf greeted them and then they met Lord Elrond, who offered them food. As the others went to have food, Fingfur rolled out his bedroll and fell asleep underneath an arch somewhere. He was exhausted and he needed sleep more than he needed the green food the Elves would no doubt serve them.

* * *

 

He was woken later when the Dwarves came back and unfolded their own bedrolls. Bilbo stood next to him for a second and Fingfur smiled at him, gesturing to the spot next to him. Bilbo smiled back and laid down next to him, never noticing the dark eyes glaring at him.

* * *

 

Fingfur was as relieved as the others when they finally left the Elves, just like them he had no love for any of the fair folk. He had enjoyed seeing their Hobbit go crazy over the Elves and especially their books. As the two of them walked next to each other, Fingfur was well aware of the angry eyes on him. Probably Dwalin – the elder Dwarf had done nothing but give him the evil eyes all journey.

“Mr Fingfur” Bilbo said from next to him, looking up at him with blue eyes that reminded Fingfur of the river out of Erebor. He smiled at the thought.

“Yes, Mr Baggins?” Fingfur asked.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you are quite different from the rest of the Dwarves” Bilbo said, looking up at him: “I don’t mean that as an insult. I just wondered why you are so… nice to me.”

Fingfur smiled: “I am more open to others than other Dwarves, but I promise you, I am not the only one in this Company. The Ur brothers are very outgoing, although Bombur is shy and Bifur cannot speak common.” He bent closer to Bilbo: “Also, Ori has been wanting to question you about Hobbits from the start. Nori is firmly against it, as he has trouble trusting outsiders and Dori isn’t much better, he’s been looking after both of his brothers since their mother died. He’s almost Ori’s father. Oin is hard to talk to, because if he doesn’t want to talk he pretends he can’t hear you. Not that he’s not really quite deaf, mind you. And you can talk to Gloin as soon as you ask about his wife and son. He could talk about his family for hours. Fili and Kili are mischief makers and would rather annoy the hell out of you, but they are not against talking to outsiders since they are so young. Balin is reserved, but he will answer your questions and can get along with anyone. So you see, I’m not all that different.”

“You never mentioned Thorin or Dwalin” Bilbo noticed.

“Well, I don’t know them that well, I think Thorin has trouble being happy with what lays on his shoulders and Dwalin… well, he’s been frowning at me since I said I would go, so… I must annoy him or something, I’m not sure. He just doesn’t like me, so I hardly have any contact with them.”

“It is sad that they cannot even trust those of their own people. They will never trust me” Bilbo said.

Fingfur clasped a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes, they stopped walking, letting Bofur grumble as he and his brother had to walk past them. “Listen to me, Bilbo Baggins, they will come to trust you, you just have to give it some time. Once you save their lives, and I have no doubt you will, they will start to trust you and see you as a brother in arms. Trust me, you will become part of the Company, even if they do not yet see you as one.”

Bilbo smiled a tearful smile: “Thank you” he whispered.

“Fingfur! Halfling! Keep up!” Thorin shouted from the front.

Fingfur frowned but quickly herded Bilbo with him to follow the rest of the group.

* * *

 

The worst thing happened when the Stone Giants decided to have a stone throwing competition while the Dwarves and one Hobbit were passing over them.  
Fingfur was just getting up from where he had been thrown by the Giant as he almost fell and heard Bofur’s panicked shout for their burglar. Ori and Bofur grabbed for Bilbo, who hung of the edge of the cliff and as he was unable to grasp their hand Fingfur swung himself down onto a ledge and pushed Bilbo up. Ori and Bofur grabbed onto him and Fingfur sighed in relief, reaching out for the hand Dwalin had stuck out at him to grasp. Just before he reached them the ledge gave away. He tried to grasp Dwalin’s hand – missed – and fell down into the dark depths below. He could only shout a cushioning charm and brace himself for impact, before everything went black.

* * *

 

“No!” Dwalin shouted reaching desperately to grasp at something that was no longer there. Fingfur had fallen. There was no way any Dwarf could survive such a fall. He turned angry eyes to their burglar, but at the tears on those red cheeks and the sobbing the little thing did Dwalin thought it had probably punished itself enough, for now.  
Thorin gestured them into the cave and made Dwalin search into the back, but there was nothing there.

It did not stop the floor from collapsing though. All Dwalin would remember later was a fight, horrible singing, an escape attempt and more fighting. Then there was sunlight and the wizard asking where the Hobbit was. What would Dwalin care about that little creature? Why did the wizard not ask after Fingfur, who was missing as well?!

The Hobbit appeared out of nowhere and said he had fallen, but even after shaking him he told Dwalin that there had been no sight of Fingfur or his body.

Then the howls came out of nowhere and they fled from the incoming Wargs and Orcs, trying to get away, only they were standing on a cliff with nowhere to go but down, or up.  
They climbed the trees and threw pine cones at the Wargs. The Wizard tried to help them as much as he could but eventually his tree fell with the others and they were hanging over the cliff. Then Thorin got it in his princely over-large head that he could take on Azog alone. Dwalin cried for him not to do it, but the Prince walked on and finally Dwalin watched as the small Hobbit came to his friend’s rescue, quickly followed by himself, Kili and Fili.

Later when they were on the Carrock, the Hobbit would comment on how his sword lessons with Fingfur had helped them all after all, and all the Dwarves would only feel shame for not thinking to help him, or the fact they had thought bad about their friend.

“You could do better” Dwalin said: “I will teach you.”

He was going to finish what Fingfur started he promised himself. He would teach the Halfling, even if only because it’s what his One would have wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely reviews and kudos! I have a question? Would you like for the Durin's to survive the BOTFA? And if you do, how would you feel about Thilbo? You can leave me a review or you can check out my fanfiction: www.fanfiction.net/u/1290660/ and leave it on the poll I will leave there. Thank you.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

 

* * *

"How many?" Dwalin asked his King and friend.

"Too few" Thorin sighed. "I have you and Balin, Fili and Kili wish to come."

"They are old enough" Dwalin said.

"Not according to their mother" Thorin said: "Should I risk my heirs on this mission?"

"Do you not think, that, should you fail, they will have a similar mission when they grow up? It's in their blood to be in Durin's mountain. Do not fool yourself thinking they would not do it. They might even follow us" Dwalin said.

"You are right" Thorin sighed.

"Who else?" Dwalin asked.

"Oin and Gloin. Also, Nori has come to talk to me."

"You can bet your last coin Dori will not let him go alone. That's a mother hen if I ever saw one" Dwalin grumbled.

"He might. He has another younger brother, does he not?" Thorin asked.

"Yes, indeed, a weasely lad, quite small and tender." Dwalin rubbed his hand over his head: "Anyone else?"

"None" Thorin said.

* * *

Only two days later Dori came towards Thorin: "Your majesty" he began and Thorin waved the title away, it was undeserved for he was king of nothing.

Dori pushed on: "Your majesty, since my foolish brother Nori has given you his service I shall join you and offer you my service. Our youngest, Ori, shall also join us. He might make a good scribe to write down your tale, your majesty."

"He is a scribe?" Thorin asked.

"Yes, or at least, well on his way to become one. I have never seen anyone more driven" Dori answered.

"I have not yet found everyone in my Company" Thorin said: "A contract will be drawn as soon as I'm done."

"Thank you, my liege" Dori said and bowed again. He righted himself to turn away but turned back, opened his mouth only to close it again with a snap.

"Yes, Dori?" Thorin asked.

"I just wanted to know, is there even a small chance that Ori might become a Royal Scribe of some sort once we have reached Erebor?"

Thorin looked at Dwalin for a moment to see what he thought of the odd request, before he turned back to Dori: "Should your brother fulfil his task well enough, than he will become Royal Scribe. Balin will be the judge of his work. If he does not do adequately he will of course be allowed to have a high profession in the Mountain, nonetheless, as will all Dwarrows who come with me on this task and should they fall, their families will not be left behind."

Dori bowed even deeper than before: "Thank you, your majesty." He then left, no doubt to go find his brothers.

"Do you figure the lad has talent?" Dwalin asked Thorin.

Thorin nodded slowly: "I heard he has gone to school, so he must have some talent."

"Probably afforded by Nori's thievery" Dwalin sneered, as Captain of the guard he had caught the middle Ri brother quite often.

"Dori does good business" Thorin said.

"Not good enough" Dwalin said, then sighed and lowered his head: "We must find our food where we can, I suppose. Nothing has been the same since Erebor."

"Let us hope we will someday return to that" Thorin said as he gripped one of Dwalin shoulders and bumped their heads gently together.

"Aye, let's hope" Dwalin grunted. "Let's hope we find more willing Dwarrows, we need all the help we can get."

* * *

Dwalin wondered what the Dwarrow coming towards them could possibly want. As long as it wasn't to go with them on the quest! He refused to take him with him. It just wasn't right!

The lad stopped in front of them: "Fingfur, at your service." He bowed towards Thorin who nodded, but his face betrayed his question as to why the young dwarrow was here.

"I offer you my service in your mission to take back Erebor, my King" Fingfur spoke.

"Out of the question" Dwalin said immediately, before Thorin could accept. He would not risk the lad's life on this mission. He would gladly give his life for a better life for him, his king and their people, but he would never risk Fingfur himself.

Fingfur ignored him and stared into the eyes of his king: "I want to help."

"You are too young, and you have no family to protect you" Dwalin grunted. It was a low blow, he knew the lad's family had died in Erebor.

The glower he got in return and the sting it caused in his heart was worth keeping him home. Until the youth bit out: "I am old enough, I am older than Fili or Kili or Ori! What right do they have that I do not? I was there when Erebor fell! I remember my parents! They died there, as did my brother! I have as much right as any Dwarrow to come!"

Dwalin seethed, he was not going to let the boy come, even if it was the last thing he did! He'd risked enough of his family! He was not going to risk his…

"- shall take him with us" Thorin concluded.

Dwalin was too busy gripping Fingfur's collar to glare at Thorin. "Give up! You are not coming with us. End of story." He tried to ignore the water in Fingfur's eyes at his words. He would rather have him mentally hurt, than dead.

"It's not your business whether I come or not. You are not my mother, or my father. I have no relation to you." That hurt Dwalin enough to let the boy go. Did he not feel the bond between them? It was true some Dwarves were born with their Ones having someone else for a One, but Dwalin had never thought he would be one of them. He was so lost in his thoughts he did not notice Fingfur leave but he did notice when Thorin pushed his shoulder.

"What's that for?" he grunted.

"Because you were lost in thought, not a sight I see often" Thorin spoke: "Why are you so against him coming? You said yourself we need all the help we can get. I have seen him practice, he's quite good with the axe."

Dwalin grumbled.

Thorin raised an eyebrow: "Are you going to tell me, or should I guess?"

"Why don't you do that" Dwalin growled, crossing his arms.

"Ok, there's only one time before when I saw you act like this. It was when Balin went to aid the Iron Hills dwarves in their dispute with the petty dwarves. So he must be some sort of relation to you. But he isn't, so he must by your One." Thorin looked at him and Dwalin just knew the truth was to be seen on his face.

"Congratulations" Thorin said.

"He said we have no relation. He does not feel the bond" Dwalin grumbled.

Thorin snorted: "He might not yet have the signs, he _is_ quite young. And by the way you were acting I think he might figure you don't see him as _your_ One."

"Just wait till you find yours" Dwalin grumbled: "You'll see it isn't as easy as all that."

Thorin gave him a half-smile: "I doubt I shall ever find my One, Dwalin, since I have not found her already."

Both Thorin and Dwalin knew Thorin's One had to be a dwarrowdam, since he'd have to have an heir to the throne, no matter that he had Fili. No one in the line of Durin had ever had a male for their One, since that would stop the continuation of the line. That is – everyone but Dis, but she was a female. In fact, she was the only female born into the line of Durin ever. Since there were few Dwarrowdams and Thorin had met most of them – mostly because their parents hoped they were his One – and never had found his One, he doubted he would ever find her. Still, Dwalin hoped his shield-brother would find his One, also because he would know that having one wasn't as easy as it seemed. Especially if the One was as stubborn as Dwalin's was.

* * *

Dwalin was unimpressed by the creature that opened the door. He had insisted to Thorin – who would be late because the envoys of the Seven Kingdoms had arrived – that he would be the first to enter this _Bag End_. He wanted to scout the place and its owner before they would all enter. Especially before Fingfur would arrive.

"Dwalin, at your service" he offered gruffly.

The tiny creature tightened the belt around his robe and bowed slightly, offering: "Bilbo Baggins, at yours."

Dwalin pushed his way in, it was time to check the place. "Where is it, laddie? Is it through here?"

"Is what through where?" the creature squeaked.

"Supper" Dwalin growled, since the Halfling was slow on the uptake: "He said there'd be food, and lots of it." He walked towards where he smelled food ignoring the creature's: "He said? Who said?"

The Halfling must be dim-witted to have forgotten he had talked to Gandalf and made the date for supper. At the table there was just a little food, some mashed potatoes, fish and something green that Dwalin would eat anyway, because he was hungry. He had yet to notice any kind of weapon in possession of the Halfling. Hardly any of the Halflings on the way had tried to stop him anyway. All their weapons where pitchforks and not one of them had dared say anything as he marched past with his battle axes on his back as well as his war hammer. He wondered if this Hobbit was worth all the havoc Gandalf had made. They would see. The fish and vegetables were alright, but Dwalin was still hungry from his long day march. "Very good this, any more?"

"Ah… ah yes" the Halfling stuttered and got some rolls from the window sill, Dwalin ignored him putting one in his pocket and took the food.

The door bell rang.

"That'll be the door" he grunted.

A moment later he spotted the cookie jar. Dwalin _loved_ cookies, he almost never got them in the Blue Mountains, since they did not sell them often at the bakeries. There was no way he would stop himself from having some now.

Balin walked in at the sight of him trying to get his hand in the jar, but his knuckledusters were in the way. He greeted Balin affectionately, they hadn't seen each other in quite a while since Balin worked somewhere for Men as some sort of accountant.

The Halfling was blabbering something while they checked out the pantry - there was probably enough food for a small feast – but Dwalin just noticed after the Halfling apologised. So they did get an apology for the fact he had not prepared dinner for them.

A moment later there was a double knock on the door. Dwalin rolled his eyes, just knowing it were the two trouble making princes. They had come whether their mother wanted it or not. A moment later they entered the dining room and started emptying it so there would be place for all the Dwarrows that were coming. The bell rang again and then they heard the noise of something falling. A moment later the other Dwarrows entered.

Dwalin recognised the Ri brothers and Gloin and Oin. He did not recognise the miner family but from their clothes, braids and beads he noticed they were from Moria. The biggest was a cook, the one with the hat a miner and the one with the axe was a toy maker, but it was obvious he had fought in battles, not only because of the axe, but also because he wore the braid of an old warrior. Balin would have done that if he weren't being all noble and wearing no braids until Erebor was theirs again. Not that Dwalin remembered him wearing any when they had been in Erebor, but he had more than proven himself since.

Fingfur wasn't there yet, and there had to be a reason for that. Was the boy lost? Dwalin hoped he would not turn up or be late so they would leave without him. He only hoped the boy would return to his home after that.

Mahal was not on his side today. There was a loud knock and the Hobbit went to see who it was. No one came for a long while.

Dwalin quieted when he noticed Fingfur in the doorway. Balin turned to where he was looking and the rest of the group followed. When it was quiet Fingfur glared at them and said in an icy voice: "I hope you are pleased." Dwalin felt the hairs on his arms and head stand up. "Our host in his bed, worried sick. You have eaten his food and repaid him by destroying his home and ransacking his pantry. I really hope you are pleased with yourselves. I have seen Dwarrows do really strange things, but this… this is the worst!" Bofur's shoulders sagged and Ori looked about to cry. "I can't believe you gave the poor Hobbit a nervous breakdown. I don't think he'd willingly go anywhere with you lot!" He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

Dwalin ignored the shouting at first, he enjoyed the way Fingfur's eyes flashed when he was angry. At last he understood that this was his last chance to stop Fingfur from coming. "If you don't like the way we do things you should just go home, lad!" He roared over the shouting of the others.

The screaming grew in sound until finally: "Enough!" Fingfur shouted.

It was immediately silent in a way Dwalin had never seen anyone do but Thorin.

There was a knock on the door. Fingfur pushed off from the doorway and walked towards the door to open it up. The dwarves and Gandalf followed.

Fingfur bowed and Dwalin could see Thorin standing outside.

"Gandalf" Thorin said as he entered the home: "I though you said this place would be easy to find, I almost lost my way, twice." He handed his cloak to Fingfur and looked around: "Where is our host?"

Dwalin opened his mouth to answer but a cold voice from Fingfur came from behind Thorin: "In bed, the Company decided to give him a nervous breakdown."

Thorin glared immediately at the other dwarves, especially the two princes.

"Don't glare at us!" Kili said: "The others were just as bad as us!"

"They should have adjusted to better manners" Fingfur growled: "I have never seen a worse party. They just stormed in here and ransacked his pantry. It is good I cleaned the rugs and fixed the loo, because it was a disaster!"

He sounded like a regular house-dwarf. Dwalin didn't know what he was to think of his One, this just seemed to confirm what he already thought, the dwarf was too weak to help in this quest. Opposites attracted right? Since Dwalin was the warrior Dwarrow it just seemed likely his One would be a lot weaker than he was.

"Wha''s going on?" the Halfling said from behind them.

Gandalf introduced the Halfling to Thorin, who nodded at him. He muttered something about food – really did the creatures think of nothing else? – and slowly fell towards the wall.

A moment later he was in Fingfur's arms and carried away. Dwalin felt jealousy strike his heart. Not because he wanted to be carried – he doubted Fingfur could even lift him – but he wanted to be close to the younger Dwarf, as close as an One could be with someone.

He followed Thorin to the kitchen and got to hear that Dain would not help them. He had not expected his cousin to come to their aid, anyway. The Dwarf always had been an opportunist. He would only help if he knew there was profit in it for him.

That wasn't really fair. Dain needed to work in the Iron Hills, where many of their people had fled to after the Dragon, and Dain had welcomed all of them, even though he had been unsure how to feed them all that coming winter. The Dwarves of Erebor where better received in the Iron Hills than anywhere else. Of course the Dwarves of the Iron hills had not split off of the Erebor line that long ago, so many of the dwarves coming had been related, and you did not send away family, unless they did something worthy of exile. Most had been lucky to have a place there, but Thorin had decided to go with those who did not and so Dwalin would follow him. He was glad he had, otherwise he would not have found Fingfur there with the outcast. Thorin discussed the fact that they needed a burglar, but Dwalin refused to believe that the Halfling was the one they needed for the task. There were others, starting with Nori, who could enter the Mountain and return with the Arkenstone. They did not need a fussy Halfling to do it for them. Dwarrows stood alone, they had done so for many years, so to ask help from a Halfling was a disgrace. Luckily they had not asked, Gandalf had, and it seemed as if the Halfling did not like the idea in the least.

* * *

Dwalin was surprised the Halfling went after them after all. He did not expect him to come after them. He grumbled as he threw his money towards Balin, no doubt his brother was happy to have gotten the money from him. Balin was smiling at him as they made their way further forward towards Thorin. He turned back as Nori and Bofur laughed at Bilbo when Bofur threw him the inside of his pocket to use as a handkerchief. Fingfur was riding next to Bilbo, and Dwalin could not help but feel a stab of jealousy because of this.

* * *

This did not really change the rest of the way towards the Misty Mountains. Fingfur spent most of his time with the Halfling and the young princes. The last he did not mind all that much, the princes were around the same age as Fingfur, but the Halfling, how he hated that little bugger gaping at his One! He rode next to his One, and talked to him and sat next to him when they stopped for the night. Dwalin gritted his teeth, he had been wondering for days now how to start a conversation, but when he tried to ride closer to his One, it seemed as if he was too busy entertaining the boys (and the cursed Halfling) with a story about a Troll and three Wizards, who by the sound of it were no more than fifty years old. Fili and Kili were listening to him and Ori was writing notes in his book while riding. Nori, who had apparently been watching Ori, and Bofur, who was never far from Nori, were also listening to the story. Did they not have better things to do than listen to fairy tales? This was not a fairy tale! It was real life!

"You have great imagination, but it is of no use to us in this journey" Dwalin said before he could stop himself.

Fingfur looked at him with sad eyes and said softly: "I am sorry you feel that way" before he looked away. Dwalin noticed the glaring the others did who had listened to the story, which he tried to ignore. He had thought the two Princes had more respect for the Dwarf who trained them.

And why didn't Fingfur see he was his One?!

* * *

Maybe he was not Fingfur's One?

* * *

Dwalin's mood plummeted in that time and grumbled about anything and everything. It seemed impossible but it dropped further when Fingfur and Bilbo disappeared at night to go do Mahal knows what. There was a lot of talk at night about how disrespectful it was for Fingfur to have intercourse with someone not his One. Dwalin noticed Thorin's gaze at him more often and his friend was only doing it because of what the others suggested. Dwalin didn't want to hear about it. He did not even want to _think_ about what his One was doing with the Halfling.

* * *

It was one of the few evenings that Fingfur and the Halfling returned early for dinner and Dwalin had somehow had help from the other Dwarves to get the Halfling away from his One. Did they know Fingfur was his One?

Anyway, the Halfling was asked by Bofur to bring food to Fili and Kili who were watching the ponies and it gave Dwalin some time to try and talk to Fingfur. He was gathering his courage when Fili came running into the camp to tell them some ponies were stolen by Trolls and that Bilbo was trying to get them free.

Thorin growled and drew his sword: "This is not going to go well. Let's go and free them."

Dwalin made sure the others were following Thorin and followed Bifur onto the terrain his Warhammer held with two hands. He was going to make those Trolls regret the day they messed with Durin's Folk.

He started hitting them in the stomach, on toes and feet. Once he knelled down so he could help Thorin jump towards the one that had Ori in his grip, he followed that with a blow to the face and made sure one of them lost some teeth. All that came to an end when they noticed Bilbo was captured. After that it was not long before he was tied to a spit and slowly turned above a hot fire.

While the Trolls were turning them around and discussing how to cook them Dwalin was searching for Fingfur. It could be he was tied to the other side of the spit but he could not find his One. Where was he? Had he abandoned them? Dwalin did not see that happening, Dwarrows were loyal to a fault.

There was a sharp whistle but Dwalin looked over the other Dwarrows in the bags so he could not see what was happening, only the widening of their eyes let him know something special was happening. Those eyes closed when a sharp light came from behind them.

He was not really surprised when he was cut down by Fingfur, but he did not feel better when he saw Fingfur getting too close to the Halfling. He stalked towards them and grunted out the first question on his mind: "What was that light, where did it come from?"

His breath caught in his throat when his One smiled at him and held up a glass vial that shone of inner light. Dwalin wasn't looking at it or listening to his One, he was staring at Fingfur's face, at his smile.

A moment later he was following Thorin and Fingfur into a cave, without knowing how he came to be there. He shook himself awake soon enough to grunt at Gloin when he told him he was making a long-term deposit and followed Thorin out of the cave a moment later, his heart running wild, maybe he was getting somewhere with his One after all.

His hope was crushed a moment later when Fingfur handed the Halfling a dagger which seemed to be a good size for a Halfling's sword.

He glared at Fingfur, when would that stupid Dwarrow notice that he was way better than a small Halfling! He! Dwalin! He had fought at Azanulbizar! Was that worth nothing? He had lost lots of family there! His father, cousin, king and prince! Was all that worth nothing? What could the Halfling offer his One that he could not! He was still one of the strongest Dwarrows on Middle-Earth and he was part of a side branch of the House of Durin! He deserved to at least have his One, right? Why else had Mahal made him one?! Had he fought for nothing?

No.

He could not think that, he had done it for his family, for his King. That was the reason he had done it. If he had to go back he would still do it! Even if it meant he would never have his One! His loyalty to his family was that strong and nothing could change that!

A howl cut through his thoughts.

A Warg appeared and attacked Dori, but Thorin had him killed with one swipe of his new sword. The sword however, got stuck. Thorin screamed at Kili to get his bow and Kili shot the second Warg, who seemed to go towards Thorin. He fell down and Dwalin hit him with his Warhammer to make sure he was dead and stayed that way.

Thorin mentioned the inevitable Orc pack and the Halfling seemed to lose his mind over it.

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf urged Thorin.

"No one" Thorin said.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf said, his voice sharp.

"No one, I swear!" Thorin said.

Dwalin could not believe that the wizard actually thought they would tell anyone!

"What in Durin's name is going on?" Thorin asked.

"You are being hunted" Gandalf said.

That meant only one thing… "We have to get out of here!" Dwalin urged his King.

"We can't! We have no ponies, they bolted!" Ori said, from the top of the hill.

It was then that the brown wizard said he would draw the Orcs off using his rabbits. Wargs were always in for a snack and if the wizard really thought they would be fast enough than Dwalin would not stop him. The Dwarrows started running and had to turn back a few times , when they reached the sight of the Orcs, but they went a good while before an Orc spotted them. Dwalin helped them get rid of it and ran with them for shelter, keeping an eye out for the Wargs.

They were surrounded before long and Dwalin urged Bofur to close the circle. If it was smaller it would be easier for others to have your back.

When Dori asked where Gandalf was Dwalin already knew and he told the others what happened. The wizard saw his change and abandoned them to death.

The wizard appeared a moment later and told them to follow him down a hole. More of a cave really. Dwalin breathed in relief when he was underground. It felt so much better. He wondered how deep the cave was and found a path. It seemed to not be covered by stone the entire way, because instead of it being dark, it seemed to be quite light.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads, do we follow it or no?" he asked the Company.

"Follow it, of course" Bofur said and walked towards him. When Dwalin noticed Thorin's look he knew they would have to, but just in case he walked in the front to make sure the pathway was safe. He was not happy when he reached the end and saw the shoddy architecture of Elves. His king would not be happy with it, and neither was he. As they made their way down the valley he made sure to stay close to Thorin and keep an eye on Fingfur, who looked about ready to fall over in exhaustion.

He shared a look with Thorin, they would keep an eye out for danger.

He gathered the others around when the Elves came riding in on horses. He was glad when Dori grabbed Fingfur and put him further into the circle, so he returned the favour by making sure that Ori was in the middle of the circle as well.

When that Elven Lord started talking to Thorin he made sure to stay next to his King, there would be no sneaky attacks while he stood guard. A moment later they were offered food and Dwalin followed his king. He did not notice they left one of their Company behind in that moment.

* * *

He noticed when they were sitting down to eat, though and he almost stormed away to find his One, but he felt he had to stay with Thorin as well. Although there were the two princes… no, he had to stay with his King. Thorin was seated too close to the Elves. He may not have his weapons but he could always use his hands, Insult and Injury. He added to the others grumbling by mentioning the lack of meat and hoped dinner would be soon over.

He could not help but make fun of Kili and his strange love of Elves. It was all in good fun, as long as the boy did not go running of with one.

Dinner only went great when Bofur stood down on the small plateau in the middle of the round courtyard and started to sing. He had a lovely voice, but the moment he changed the tune it became clear it was one of the more popular drinking songs.

"There's aaaaaaaaan inn" Bofur started and then started stamping his feet and laughing at hem as he sang full joy. Dwalin and the others couldn't help but join him.

"There's an inn,

There's a merry old inn,

Beneath an old grey hill,

And there they brew a beer so brown,

The Man in the Moon himself came down,

One night to drink his fill.

Oh, the ostler has a tipsy cat,

That played a five-stringed fiddle,

And up and down he saws his bow,

Now squeaking high, now purring low,

Now sawing in the middle.

So, the cat on the fiddle,

Played hey-diddle-diddle,

A drink that'll wake the dead,

He squeaked and he sawed,

And he quickened the tune,

And the landlord shook the Man in the Moon,

It's after three he said."

It might have been a shorter version of the real song but the Dwarves enjoyed it, even as they played the tune with their cutlery and threw their food up and down the table. They ignored the faces of their hosts and enjoyed making a mess.

* * *

After dinner they found Fingfur asleep near some pillar and dropped down next to him, intend on going to sleep themselves after a long day. Dwalin was just figuring out a reason to go to sleep next to him when their Burglar was invited to take the spot. He glared at both them and stormed out of the room snarling at his brother he needed to relieve himself. He didn't notice Balin's eyes going from him to Fingfur and back again.

He returned much later and tried to get some sleep, but he kept turning the entire night. That Halfling was trying to steal his One.

* * *

Dwalin did not miss the look of happiness on Fingfur's face as they left the Elves behind. He was quite happy himself to leave those bloody Elves, even though their wine was okay and it had been nice to have some games – one of them had included the fountain, much to the Elf Lindir's chagrin. Dwalin smiled at the mere thought of that.

"Have you ever gone through these mountains, Mister Dwalin?" a soft voice asked from next to him, and to his shock it was Fingfur who walked next to him.

"I only saw them from the other side, Mister Fingfur" Dwalin replied: "During the battle of Azanulbizar and later when we past the south when we came from Rohan to head to the Blue Mountains." He hesitated a moment, not really wanting the Dwarf to go: "Balin has travelled through this way, though, he is probably the only one in the Company."

"Soon we will all know it" Fingfur murmured and fell silent. He walked by Dwalin the rest of the way though.

* * *

They walked further into the Mountains and tried to keep from being blown away from the ledge. Dwalin had to save their Burglar a few times. They were tossed away because of the Stone Giants and Dwalin watched as Fingfur swung down the ledge to save their Burglar. He tried to reach out his arm for his One to catch, but he was too late.

"No!" Dwalin shouted reaching desperately to grasp at something that was no longer there. Fingfur had fallen. There was no way any Dwarf could survive such a fall. He turned angry eyes to their burglar, but at the tears on those red cheeks and the sobbing the little thing did Dwalin thought it had probably punished itself enough, for now.

Thorin gestured them into the cave and made Dwalin search into the back, but there was nothing there.

It did not stop the floor from collapsing though. All Dwalin would remember later was a fight, horrible singing, an escape attempt and more fighting. Then there was sunlight and the wizard asking where the Hobbit was. What would Dwalin care about that little creature? Why did the wizard not ask after Fingfur, who was missing as well?!

The Hobbit appeared out of nowhere and said he had fallen, but even after shaking him he told Dwalin that there had been no sight of Fingfur or his body.

Then the howls came out of nowhere and they fled from the incoming Wargs and Orcs, trying to get away, only they were standing on a cliff with nowhere to go but down, or up.

They climbed the trees and threw pine cones at the Wargs. The Wizard tried to help them as much as he could but eventually his tree fell with the others and they were hanging over the cliff. Then Thorin got it in his princely over-large head that he could take on Azog alone. Dwalin cried for him not to do it, but the Prince walked on and finally Dwalin watched as the small Hobbit came to his friend's rescue, quickly followed by himself, Kili and Fili.

Later when they were on the Carrock, the Hobbit would comment on how his sword lessons with Fingfur had helped them all after all, and all the Dwarves would only feel shame for not thinking to help him, or the fact they had thought bad about their friend.

"You could do better" Dwalin said: "I will teach you."

He was going to finish what Fingfur started he promised himself. He would teach the Halfling, even if only because it's what his One would have wanted.

* * *

They walked down the Carrock as quick as they could, they could not believe that the Orcs would not go after them again quickly. Dwalin half helped carry Thorin down the slope. While the king would never admit it, he was hurt more badly than he seemed. Dwalin knew him well enough to notice the signs.

It was while they were walking through an alcove between two mountains, that they heard howling in the distance. Gandalf quickly suggested their burglar should take a look in order to see how close they were. Thorin and Dwalin looked at each other. The Halfling could give them away, but he had saved Thorin from the Orcs once, and it was sure that if he got them on his skin he would be the first one dead.

After a moment Thorin nodded: "Okay, but stay hidden!"

The Halfling seemed reluctant to leave but eventually left and the Dwarves waited with bating breath to see if the howls got closer or not.

When he finally returned Thorin asked: "How close is the pack?"

"Too close. A couple of leagues, no more" was what the Halfling said as he came down the hill. "But that's not the worst of it!"

Dwalin sighed in relief, the Halfling probably saw problems where there were none… unless… "Have the Wargs picked up our scent?"

The Halfling turned to him: "Not yet. But they will do. We have another problem."

They gathered around him.

"Did they see you?" the Wizard asked the Hobbit. The Hobbit turned to him: "They saw you!"

"No, that's not it" the Hobbit said and Dwalin sighed in relief, they were still hidden.

Gandalf seemed to think this was a great thing as well: "What did I tell you, quiet as a mouse."

The other Dwarves started agreeing.

"Excellent burglar material" Gandalf went on, probably to prove he had chosen wisely for his burglar. Dwalin still wasn't convince. The others apparently were.

"Will you listen?" the Hobbit all but squeaked: "Will you just listen! I am trying to tell you, there is something else out there!"

This was not good news, the burglar seemed to believe it was really a danger.

Gandalf seemed to know more as he asked: "What form did it take? Like a bear?"

The burglar seemed surprised by this question, his eyes narrowing in suspicion: "Y-Yes, but bigger, much bigger."

So the Wizard had known of this fell beast on the other side of the mountain path?

"You knew about this beast?" Bofur asked him, incredulously. The Wizard ignored him and turned his back to the Company. "I say we double back" Bofur suggested.

"And be run down by a pack of Orcs?" Thorin asked.

Then the Wizard spoke: "There is a house…" he turned back towards them: "It's not far from here, where we might take refuge."

Thorin seemed to like this idea as much as Dwalin, they remembered the last house Gandalf had taken them to: "Whose house? Are they friend or foe?"

The Wizard seemed to be sure of his answer this time: "Neither. He will help us, or he will kill us."

That did not help them at all. But they could not go back and they would be run down by the Orc pack any moment now. On top of that, they needed rest, their King most of all.

Thorin seemed to recognise this as well: "What choice do we have?" They might be able to kill the owner of the house if they were to turn foe. There was a roar from behind them.

"None" Gandalf said gravely.

And so they ran, from the mountains through the fields with water licking their toes and bushes they had to watch out for. The terrain was uneven but they had to run for the dogs of evil were really behind them. They ran through forests and Dwalin kept a close eye on Thorin, who seemed to be able to catch up. Not only the Wargs were behind them, though. There were roars that did not come from any Warg, and they were coming closer.

Finally they came to the house and they all ran towards it for as they reached the gate a giant bear sprung from the forest and came after them. Thorin seemed to understand what the rest of the idiots in the Company did not and opened the latch of the door. They quickly entered and pushed close the door before the bear could enter. Dwalin could hear Thorin screaming his name, he was relying on him. "Come on lads!" he encouraged the others and gave one more mighty push which seemed to be enough to close the door. He drew quick breaths and leaned against the door. There was no more danger for now. Wait. The owner of this house might be their foe, right?

Dwalin was not reassured when Gandalf said that beast was their host. He walked up the step to what seemed a dining table he walked around and then stood near Thorin who leaned heavily against some open cupboard. Now that he had a slight time to rest he seemed to be unable to keep it together any more.

"Let's get you rested" Dwalin said gruffly.

Thorin threw him a small smile: "Yes" his eyes betrayed his thankfulness, even if he would never say it out loud.

* * *

As he lay in his bed that night Dwalin could not help his thoughts from finally thinking of Fingfur. His One was lost to him. He bit his lip to keep from waking the others. He had never thought he would find an One and now that he had he had lost him in a moment of stupidity. Sometimes he really wished he had gone over the edge. His one would not have missed him, since he was not the dwarf's One and his cousins had lost before, they would get over it, eventually. But his One, his precious One, he would have to live his life without him. It wasn't fair. Well, his life had never been fair, but he wished he would at least get some form of happiness, and having his One had been one of them. Now his life would be spend to keep his King and his family safe. Tomorrow morning he would start training the youngsters some more, even though they were able fighters. And he would help the Hobbit. That creature seriously needed all the help he could get. He turned to Gloin and closed his eyes.

* * *

He woke up by the sound of what could only be an axe. He shot up and saw that none of his kin were attacked, and he quickly noticed that some of the others were also awake. Thorin was looking around, as was Fili, Nori and Bifur. The others seemed to be on the brink of waking up and mumbled in their sleep. Only their Hobbit lay still on his blanket.

He was up and walking towards the window with Nori ahead of him and Fili on his tail. Thorin took the time to wake the others somewhat.

There was a huge man outside chopping wood. The others were quickly around him staring at the man.

"Who… who's going to greet him?" Ori whispered and the rest silenced. They all turned to Thorin as one.

"He's not yet healed" Dwalin growled: "Someone else might take the rope with this one."

They all turned to Balin.

"I think Master Dori would be best, he's used to all kinds of people entering his shop, after all."

"I had to earn somehow!" Dori said: "Don't blame me!" He of course meant that most of the Dwarves had been less well-off for they had worked a different job.

"Come on, Dori!" Bofur said, sweeping his arm to the side.

"Maybe Nori should go! He's used to all sort of types of people!" Kili said.

"Well maybe Fili should go! He's the Heir, isn't he?" Dori bit back.

"Well I say we should leg it! Slip out the back way" Nori brought into the conversation.

Dwalin did not like his slippery ways one bit: "I am not running from anyone, beast or no."

"There's no point in arguing" Gandalf brought in the conversation: "We cannot pass through the Wilderland without Beorn's help. We'll be hunted down before we ever get to the forest. Ah, Bilbo" he greeted the newly arrived burglar: "There you are. This will require some delicate handling. We must tread very carefully. The last person to have startled him was torn to shreds."

Well that was an encouraging thought, Dwalin thought, trying to look past Bofur out the window.

"I will go first" the Wizard went on: "And – uh, Bilbo? You come with me."

The Hobbit tried to argue but it seemed as if the gazes of the elder Durins stopped him, as well as Gandalf's. Thorin moved his head towards Gandalf to get him to move and Bilbo asked: "Is this a good idea?"

"Yes" Gandalf answered. He turned to the Dwarves: "Now the rest of you, you just wait here and don't give out until I give the signal."

Bofur immediately answered: "Right. Wait for the signal."

"And no sudden moves or loud noises, and don't overcrowd him." Gandalf went on and added: "And only come out in pairs. Right." He turned to walk away but turned back: "No, actually, Bombur, um, you count as two so you should come out alone."

Bombur made an agreeing noise after he bit his carrot.

"Remember, wait for the signal." Gandalf added before he left with Bilbo.

"The signal. Right" Bofur said. He then turned to the others and asked: "What signal would that be?"

The Dwarves looked at each other until Thorin said: "It's probably an obvious one, just keep a look out, Bofur."

They waited, shuffling their feet, arguing between themselves who should go first. They decided on Balin and Dwalin. One to be able to be able to talk the skin-changer from attacking them and the other in case it did not work.

"There it is. Go. Go!" Bofur at once said.

Dwalin nudged Balin and together they walked out, but Dwalin made sure to walk ahead of his brother. He put his hands on his belt and walked down, waving slightly at the skin-changer as he introduced: "Dwalin and Balin" he watched as Balin waved and heard Gandalf talk again.

"- confess that, uh, several of our group are, in fact, Dwarves."

The skin-changer said something, but Dwalin was unable to hear it from so far away. Gandalf went on with the rest of their introduction as Oin and Gloin left the house after them. They were then followed by Ori and Dori who offered their service, which the skin-changer refused. They were followed by the young princes after which Nori, Bofur, Bifur and Bombur came stumbling down. Thorin was the last to appear from the house, his eyes were fixed on the skin-changer.

Gandalf seemed to stutter through his story after that, but finally they were invited inside.

They got milk to drink and bread with honey to eat. The hobbit especially seemed to enjoy it.

"Don't eat too much" Dwalin warned him: "We will have a training after the food."

"I'm a Hobbit, Master Dwarf. I can eat food till I burst and have no problem training. There is a reason we eat seven meals a day if we can."

"They have not been starving you, have they, Mr Halfling?" the skin-changer asked.

"Oh no, we Hobbits can take less food if we need to. We just don't like it much." Bilbo smiled at the skin-changer before it disappeared. "I wish Fingfur was here to teach me instead."

"Fingfur? Who is he?" the skin-changer asked.

"One of our Company" Thorin said: "He gave his life to save Master Baggins."

"A Dwarf with eyes then…" the skin-changer muttered, his eyes going towards the direction of the mountains. He seemed to go deep in thought.

"I miss him" Bilbo said, and as one Dwalin felt jealousy again. It was still unclear how close they had been. "He was the only one that really seemed to get me of the Company."

"It was not more than that?" Fili asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Bilbo blushed bright red: "I am a Hobbit, Master Fili, I do not like what you are suggesting!"

"There is nothing wrong with finding a companion on the road" Fili answered.

"Hobbits don't have companions" Bilbo answered: "Not once we are out of our tweens at least. I have been a bachelor for a reason. There was no one I felt I could be with. And I did not feel it with Fingfur. It seemed to me that he had feelings for someone else." He blushed again as he said this: "Of course I would never betray his trust to mention who. It just looked to me like it."

Dwalin wanted to know, but it would perhaps hurt even more if he knew that Fingfur had felt the same way and he did not do anything about it. He had wanted to talk to Fingfur so many times, but it always seemed like a bad time, or the wrong thing would come out of his mouth. He wanted his Dwarrow. He wanted Fingfur to still be here, to train Bilbo together. To walk through the garden and watch the large bees take their honey from the flowers. To walk side by side and talk about anything and everything. It had been his wish, but there was no chance for it now. His One was gone and he was left alone.

There was a hand placed on his shoulder and he turned to see his brother. His eyes were sad. "I am sorry, brother" he murmured and Dwalin felt his throat tighten. How had his brother figured it out? He did not want to think about it now. He tore his shoulder from behind his brother's hand and turned to the Hobbit.

"We're going to train. Meet me outside." It came out quite gruff, but there was no thought about that. The Hobbit looked a bit frightened, but that look would disappear when they started, he would be too busy learning. Dwalin had taught many Dwarves over the years and not all had wanted a profession in the Guard. Some were scribes like Ori, or Dwarrowdams who wanted to be able to defend themselves. Younglings who had their first travel outside of the Mountains coming up. Dwalin had taught them all. The Hobbit may be of another race but he had shown enough bravery to outshine a lot of the Dwarves Dwalin had taught, so he would be fine.

* * *

They went to the field by Beorn's house, making sure to stay away from the ponies so they would not scare them and Dwalin ran Bilbo through the standard moves. Fili and Kili joined them immediately and started giving pointers, which Dwalin had to cut off severely times because they were less than helpful for a beginner. They were then joined by Nori, who gave Bilbo good pointers, for he was used fighting as the smaller, leaner Dwarrow. Bofur came with him and started laughing with Nori and telling jokes. He puffed up his pipe and smoked all the while. He was followed by Balin and Thorin, the latter looked mildly impressed as the Hobbit went through the moves.

Dwalin made the Hobbit do harder moves when he was ready for them and went through them with the help of Fili and Kili. The boy princes seemed to enjoy the normalcy of training with Dwalin, and sometimes they had even helped him with another student. They were some of his best students and had worked hard to be able to fight their uncle and cousin, without losing instantly. When they were younger Dwalin - and Thorin, when he had the time – had gone easy on the two brothers, but as they grew they made the boys work harder and harder to get them down, until one day Fili actually beat Dwalin. Dwalin had never been so proud and assure Fili that he had not held back at all. Kili had, of course, not want to be less than his brother and worked extra hard to get Dwalin down as well. It took him a couple of years – he was younger than Fili, after all – but he made it. Dwalin had been proud and they had celebrated with them that very night. It had been the first night any of the princes had had Dwarven ale. Dwalin sometimes still made jokes about the weird things the princes had done that night. It had been one night Thorin had shook off the fact they were Heirs to the Line of Durin and just let them be. The entire tavern had laughed at them and the princes had not remembered anything the next day, not to speak of the headache they both had.

Dwalin corrected Bilbo's stance and then stepped back to let Fili do a mock fight with their burglar. He watched critically but let his mind wander. He did not really want to talk about Fingfur, but he knew he had to talk to someone. His preferred person would be Thorin, but he knew that he owed it to his brother to talk to him. Maybe he would take him in confidence tonight. He returned his thoughts to the fight happening in front of him.

The Hobbit was faring well for his level, Fili might bring him down a couple of time, but the Hobbit was quick to roll away and back on his feet. What he did not have for strength he used his ability to be quick and silent. He could hear Fili as he moved around, but the Hobbit's feet had gone silent. They had not always been that way, but he had always been the least loud of the group, but now, in the middle of this fight it seemed he had made sure his feet were silent.

It took a while, but Fili's expertise showed as he won and pinned the Hobbit to the ground.

"Very well done, laddies!" Dwalin said, before he turned to the Hobbit: "Master Hobbit, you might want to get some lessons from Nori, he's more able than me to teach you sneakiness."

Thorin put his hand on Dwalin's shoulder as he turned away: "We have to talk."

* * *

Dwalin went with Thorin and Balin and they discussed in depth the way they would take through the forest. The Elven Road may be safe, but they were made by Elves, it might be treacherous none the less. He thought Beorn had the right idea, the Wood Elves were different from their kind. They cared less for the troubles of the world. They would need to work hard in order to get rid of their believes that there little land would be safe even if the rest of the world fell around them. They would not be. They could not hold out forever in their little forest. Dwalin even wished they would be hurt the worst. Or at least worse than they themselves. He did not like the Elves, especially after what happened with Smaug.

"There's a reason it is called Mirkwood these days" Balin said: "The forest is unsafe. We must find a way through that will keep us safe."

"Do you believe we should warn the Elves?" Thorin asked. He grimaced: "I would not really want to, but if it keeps us safe…"

"He would demand payment" Dwalin growled, he did not have to explain what he meant: "And we all know what that payment is. It is our right to keep the treasure of Thror safe. He would not part with it when he was King, and I do not see why we should now."

"Thror was mad with gold sickness" Balin reminded him: "He, at that stage, no longer cared for his people, but only for his treasure. We must make sure we do not befall the same faith. Durin's blood is also in our veins, as is it's madness. We should make sure we go through the forest safe."

"Perhaps we won't have to inform them, the Woodland Men probably don't ask. If we meet them, there is nothing wrong with travelling, so I doubt they can blame us for it" Thorin wondered.

"They're not the loyal Elves of Rivendell, these are worse, there was no help from the Elves when we starved on the roads of Men. No food, no water and no clothing of any kind. That's what they are worth, there friendship is in name only, you cannot trust them."

"Gandalf will be with us" Thorin said: "He could always speak to Thranduil. It is not as if I would want to speak with that _ukrafu anthur_."

"Yes, if we should encounter Elves we shall let Gandalf talk. He's done nothing else to everyone else we have met so…" Balin said.

"If there is even talking to that King" Thorin remarked.

Dwalin merely grunted in reply, he doubted that very thing.

Balin then turned to Dwalin and raised an eyebrow.

Dwalin raised his in reply.

"Tell me about Fingfur" Balin said: "Is it true…?"

Dwalin gave a nod and crossed his arms, this time in a defensive gesture.

Balin turned to Thorin: "You knew?"

Thorin smiled weakly: "I guessed, in Ered Luin, before we had to leave." His smile grew as he remembered the moment. "He was so adamant to leaving him behind, there had to be a reason for that. I have only ever seen him with you and that mess in the Iron Hills with the petty dwarves."

" _That_ was what he was like?" Balin laughed: "I feel sorry for poor Fingfur." He then sobered, remembering what had happened to the Dwarrow and pulled Dwalin's face to his so their foreheads touched gently: "I am so sorry, brother. I would have wished he had lived."

Dwalin swallowed and turned so he stood with his back to them. He said through gritted teeth: "There was a reason why I did not want him to go!" He swallowed again: "I cannot believe this had to happen to my One, have I not lost enough? Will Mahal take everything that is good and just from this world, from me?"

"You cannot think that way" Thorin argued: "We are on our way back to Erebor! We will reclaim our homeland!"

"What use is a homeland to me, without an One to share it with?" Dwalin asked him. He then sighed: "Don't get me wrong, I will follow you till the end. I will make sure that you will wear the crown of Erebor. I will help you reclaim and recover your Mountain. But you cannot ask me to be happy about it. I will do as I have always done. I will fight by your side, but do not expect me to become one those Nobles our father was. I can never be that, and I never will. I live for one thing now, to keep you and the line of Durin safe. There is no other reason. You cannot ask it of me, to be happy without my One."

He was turned towards Thorin who placed their foreheads together: "No one can ask you that, shield-brother." His eyes showed his gladness that Dwalin still wanted to live at all, he had seen Dwarves fade away, they all had. Losing Erebor had been hard on all of them.

They stayed in each other's company for a while longer and reminisced about what they had lost.

* * *

A few days later they finally left the skin-changer's house. They saddled the ponies and Gandalf's horse, for the wizard was talking to the skin-changer. Dwalin noticed he looked worried. He insured the other Dwarves were properly on their horses and smiled at Ori as he helped the younger Dwarf get on the saddle. As he turned around he saw Dori give him the evil eye. He wondered what that was about before he followed the others when they finally left.

They rode over grass plains and were lucky that they did not meet the Orcs on their way to the Mirkwood. It had undoubtedly something to do with the fact that Beorn was trailing them. Dwalin had noticed him after the first hour and felt more secure, because for some reason it made the Orcs stay away. Not that he believed anyone would want to go against the giant bear, but it seemed these Orcs were somewhat smart. He shuddered to think about the stupidity of the Orcs in the west. Some were even stupid enough to walk straight into his axes. Of course not all of them, seeing as the one that had given Bifur his axe in his head was undoubtedly not stupid to get the drop on the Dwarf. Bifur was an amazing warrior, he just preferred being a toy maker.

He was going to annoy the wizard: "No sign of the Orcs. We have luck on our side."

The wizard promptly told them to let the ponies loose, as if they would be helpful in a forest.

A moment later he abandoned them. It was not utterly surprising anymore.

Later he followed his King into the accursed forest.

* * *

Later, much, much later Dwalin cursed as he fought against spiders. Little did he know his luck had turned, for far away, out of the forest, over plains, woods and into the mountains there was a bear who turned into a man. A large man.

Beorn looked down at the body beneath him.

The Dwarf was still alive.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it might take me awhile to put up part 3, I have to get my hands on the BOFTA Extended Edition first. Which is probably not until November :(


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the story of Fingfur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long. I'm still not really pleased, but after 14k words I had to make an ending.

Fingfur groaned as he came to consciousness. He was still a Dwarf so he had not died, but he did not doubt it was just luck on his part.

“Stay still, you are badly hurt, although you are healing very quickly” a low grumble came from above him.

Fingfur opened his eyes and stared at the huge man above him.

“You are the other Dwarf are you not? The one from the Company?”

“Yes” Fingfur croaked: “Fingfur” he said, knowing he could say little more.

“Yes, little bunny was so upset you weren’t with them anymore, as was the gruff warrior dwarf. Even the royal Dwarf seemed upset. I don’t like Dwarves, but I do like the little bunny.”

‘Are you talking of Bilbo? Did they survive?’ Fingfur wanted to ask but he merely croaked.

“Don’t talk, wait until you are in better health” the large man spoke to him. “I will take you to my home.”

Fingfur closed his eyes and slumped against the large man, falling asleep almost immediately.

 

* * *

 

Fingfur had weird dreams. He dreamed that they were still in the Shire and that the Dragon came there as well. He dreamed Dwalin wore flowers in his hair and that Thorin was drunk and was being held up by Oin. He saw Bilbo being devoured by fire and Wargs attacking Ered Luin. He watched as the Mirkwood burned and Azog rose above the Misty Mountains. But Azog was dead?

Fingfur opened his eyes and stared up at a wooden ceiling. There was a pony to his left and he quickly moved back.

“You are awake, I see” a booming voice came from next to him. “Just in time, too. I was about to leave.”

Fingfur frowned and looked towards the giant next to the bed. “Who are you? If you don’t mind me asking? And where am I exactly?”

“In my house and I am Beorn. Your Company rested with me before they took off to reclaim a homeland. But with Orcs on their tail, I wonder how far they’ve gotten. More are closing in from the Misty Mountains. They dare not go near this place, but I will see them not return to their home either. The Orcs will die and the Goblins with them. The fight will probably take place near the Lonely Mountain. So if you wish to come. I leave in two days.”

Fingfur closed his eyes. He did not come so far to give up at the last moment. He would fight with Thorin and his kin at Erebor, and they would prevail. He had not used magic in fighting for a long time. Even before he got on Middle Earth. He slowly rubbed his hands together. He then felt inside himself for his magic core. It was still large, as it always had been. He slowly let it travel through his extremities to all the places in his body. The magical channels where still as intact as ever, even if they had not felt magic since his fall. It was probably the only reason he was still alive, that and the fact that his magic would try to heal him even if he was near death.

He would fight for his Company. He would fight so that even if he might die, they would live. He would first have to be ready to leave in two days though… how long had he been out of it if they had already reached the Mountain? And how where the Dwarves doing? Had they all survived? It didn’t matter, he had to go, if only to see for himself.

 

* * *

 

Fingfur was slowly going through the moves with his halberd, it had been awhile since he used it. He had only held onto it during the skirmish with the Orcs and not used it since. He had more use of his short swords when fighting with Bilbo. He stopped moving when he thought about the Hobbit, but quickly returned to moving with the halberd. He was going back to the Mountain and Beorn had told him of the Goblins whom had left the Mountains. He would fight for the Kingdom. It was time for the Dwarves to return to the Mountain.

“Little fox, are you ready to go?” Beorn asked him.

Fingfur stopped moving and stared at Beorn: “Yes, how are we getting there?”

Fingfur turned around as he heard the loud call of a bird. He came eye to feathers of a huge eagle.

 

* * *

 

They were halfway around Mirkwood when Fingfur stiffened. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. He did not know why he thought that, just that he did. They were getting closer now… close enough to apparate? He could still remember parts of the mountain from his youth… Maybe he could apparate towards the gate. There were probably no goblins that close to the gate, so it should be safe… if he apparated inside the gate he might get spotted by the Company, but he would have to explain later either way, so maybe he should appear somewhere they would not see him and explain later, he would rather not get an axe in his head because he scared the Company.

He closed his eyes, remembered the three D’s and disapparited.

 

* * *

 

He appeared in the old guard’s house near the gate. There was no one there, nor near the gate, which was open for all to enter. He crept towards the open gate and looked out. There was a battle happening away from the gate, there were Dwarves fighting orcs and trolls, and there seemed to be taller people further away, Fingfur couldn’t see whether they were Elves or Men, but it seemed a bit of both. Where was it he was needed, exactly? He saw Bifur and Bombur fighting Orcs together. Bofur seemed to be riding one of the trolls, going by the hat Fingfur saw. He watched as he took on another troll who was in the River. What was he doing there? Fingfur wasn’t sure until he saw three Goats riding up Ravenhill. So that was where he needed to go.

He took a step forward, his eyes turning towards the battle and stopped. _How_ was he going to get there? He could try to apparite, but how was he to be sure he would not appear where there were Orcs? There was just one thing for it. He held out an arm and watched as the air rippled and opened up. He was glad he had been keeping his important stuff in a pocket dimension since the Wizarding War. He summoned his broom and took it out. It was the easiest way to fly. He then cast a disillusionment charm on himself and flew off.

 

* * *

 

He was nearly there when he saw Azog holding Fili in one arm. Without thinking he cast the first curse he could think of; the stinging jinx and watched as Azog dropped Fili and held up his hand. His aim had been very good, Azog’s hand was swollen from the jinx. Probably not for very long, Orcs could heal very fast. Fili had fallen from the tower, but Kili seemed to be there and was dragging his brother away, back over the ice. Thorin was staring at Azog from that side as if he had never seen him before.

“Kili!” Dwalin called, running towards the ice where Kili was still half-dragging his brother with him. He quickly grabbed Fili as well and together they moved back towards Thorin.

Fingfur decide they were well enough and flew back down to the fight below. There was no doubt he could be of proper help there. He dropped to the ground near the other Dwarves and put his broom back in his pocket dimension. He took out his halberd and threw of the disillusionment charm before engaging the closest Orc. He lost himself in the fight soon after.

 

* * *

 

“The King! The King fought off Azog and needs a Healer! All Healers to the King!” a shout came over the battlefield. Most of the Orcs had already fled and the bats were being taken care of by the Eagles. Fingfur grumbled, he had just sat down next to another Dwarf to share some water – of course he had forgotten any for himself – but now he got up and ran towards where the other Dwarves pointed. He found Thorin with Oin next to him.

“Fingfur?” a voice came from his back but Fingfur ignored it, putting his hand in his belt bag and opening his pocket dimension. He took out the Phoenix tears. He knelt down next to Thorin and held up his head. He drippled three droplets on Thorin’s mouth, who licked them off. It should be enough to speed up the healing process and keep him alive, without anyone thinking he survived by some miracle. He then quickly stepped back to let Oin have some space.

“Fingfur, laddie! Where did you come from?” Balin cried out when he saw who it was: “We thought you were dead!”

Fingfur smiled as the elderly Dwarf embraced him: “Well, I survived my fall and Beorn came to patch me up. I flew with him and the Eagles.” Not a lie, he just didn’t arrive with them. “Is everyone else still alive? I haven’t seen Bofur or Bifur anywhere.”

“They went to get checked out by a Healer” Nori said: “Bifur lost his axe if you can believe it.”

“Fili is in a bad way, but he’ll survive” Balin added: “Kili is with him” he smiled: “Soon he will no longer stay in bed just to get away from his brother.”

The others laughed half-heartedly, it was no real time to be joking, they had won but they had lost many as well.

“Isn’t he supposed to be Regent now that his brother and uncle are out of the running?” Dwalin asked gruffly.

“Fili said he would share the burden with Kili as far as he can. Kili never really got all of the lessons needed to be Regent.”

“So the little buggers are alive?” another gruff voice said and they turned to see Dain standing there, next to his boar.

“Yes” Oin was the one who answered: “And I need a stretcher to get Thorin towards the Mountain as well.”

Dain turned to the Dwarf next to him and said a quick few words to get him to search for a stretcher. “Where are Fili and Kili?” he then asked.

“In one of your healer tents” Dwalin answered: “I escorted them myself.”

“Alright” Dain said: “I’ll go check on them, see if they need any help.” He turned to Balin: “Will you remain with Thorin, cousin?”

Balin bowed his head in agreement. Dain nodded back and left them alone.

Not long after that two Dwarves came with a stretcher and Oin helped them put Thorin on it, before he told four of the Company – Dwalin, Balin, Nori and Gloin – to help carry Thorin towards the Mountain. Fingfur found himself alone and decided he was going to find some water after all. He turned around, spotted an Elf and decided to try his luck.

“Any chance for some water?” Fingfur asked to the back of the Elf. He had long red hair, beautiful, like his mother had had and Ginny.

He turned out to be a she and she handed over her own water flask to him. He took it gratefully and took a sip.

“May I ask you something?” she asked him.

“Sure” he answered, wondering what she wanted to know.

“Do you know what happened to Kili? The dark-haired prince? I was looking for him but couldn’t find him.”

“He’s the Regent, he’s currently with his brother. Fili was hurt badly in the battle, I’m not sure how that happened, but that’s where Kili is.”

“You seem to be familiar with them, but you were not with them when they were in the Greenwood” she asked: “Did you come with Dain Ironfoot?”

“No” he answered: “I came with Beorn.”

“The Bear?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“He found me after I fell off a mountain in the Misty Mountains.”

“You fell _off_ a mountain?” she asked: “How did you survive?!”

“Just really lucky, I suppose” Fingfur answered: “Anyway, should I tell Prince Kili you asked about him?”

“No, just tell him I’ll be in Dale when you see him.”

“And you are?” Fingfur asked.

“Tauriel” she answered.

“Tauriel” he repeated: “Fine, I’ll tell him, not sure when it is I’ll see him, though, he’s probably way too busy for a while. Oh, and here is your flask.” He handed back her flask: “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have seen a Hobbit, would you?”

 

* * *

 

Fingfur moved towards the streets of Dale. There were people moving about, trying to find their families and giving the dead people their last honours. They would probably burn them, there was no way they could bury all of them. Or maybe it would be a massive grave. He wasn’t even sure how Humans did it in this world to be honest.

Tauriel had said she had seen Bilbo last here with Gandalf. Fingfur had yet to find either of them. He wondered if they went towards the Mountain already and he had missed them on the battlefield, you would think Gandalf would stand out on the field, but apparently he hadn’t. If they had gone in the first place. Fingfur struggled further up the way into the city. The cut on his leg was slightly hurting, and it did not help that the roads were so steep. He used his halberd as a walking stick the last part of the hill. When he reached the top he was in what seemed to be a small square. There were more Humans wandering around here, it seemed they were dragging foods towards their houses and there were mothers watching over children, too much children to be of all the mothers, and a few of the woman looked even too young in Fingfur’s eyes.

“Oi, Dwarf, what are you doing here?!” a voice shouted and Fingfur looked to see an older man come from a side street.

“I’m looking for a Hobbit” he answered: “Have you seen Mister Baggins?”

The old man narrowed his eyes: “Why? Haven’t you people done enough against the halfling?”

“Why? What happened?” Fingfur asked.

“I’ll tell you what happened” a rough voice came from behind him: “Your King went gold mad and threw out Mister Baggins. It was only by the help of Gandalf he didn’t actually throw him from the top of the gate.” Bard glared down at the Dwarf.

Fingfur swallowed, he could imagine it, sadly enough: “Is he okay? Have you seen him?”

“Yes” Bard bit out icily: “Though I do not know why you care. You were not with the Company when they reached my house.”

“You wouldn’t” Fingfur answered: “Since I fell of a mountain in the Misty Mountains.”

“Fingfur?” a young voice asked from behind Bard: “You _must_ be Fingfur! Bilbo told me all about you!” A smiling blond child appeared from behind Bard and took Fingfur’s hand to shake it up and down.

“Indeed, little miss?” Fingfur asked: “Fingfur, at your service” he bowed over their hands: “And might I know your name? You must be an extraordinary young woman to have the friendship of Master Baggins.”

“I am Tilda” the little girl answered: “Are you really Fingfur? How did you survive falling of the mountain? Do you really tell stories about magical children? Do they really fly on Dragons? Our dragon wasn’t very friendly” she said in one breath.

Fingfur laughed: “Well, I doubt there are many places where Dragons are nice but of course there are nice Dragons as well, just as there are nice Humans and Elves and Dwarves.”

“And Orcs?” Tilda asked.

“I am not sure” Fingfur answered honestly: “I cannot say I have ever met a nice Orc, to be honest.”

Tilda at once turned towards Bard: “Da, can we take Mister Fingfur home and let him see Bilbo and he can tell us stories! Please, Da? Please?”

Fingfur had not yet figured out that the adorable child was the daughter of Bard, but now he could see the resemblance. She probably took more from her mother, but she was still cute. Like most Dwarves Fingfur adored children, and he had adored him even in his first live and all lives after that. “So Bilbo is with you?”

“Yes! He’s helping with the laundry!” Tilda said, grinning. She grabbed Fingfur’s hand and started dragging him towards the citadel. Fingfur wasn’t unaware that Bard and the elder man were following them.

 

* * *

 

They met were Tilda told them Bilbo would be – doing the laundry. He was with a few older girls and some women, cleaning off his own shirt with a brush.

“Bilbo” Bard called and the Hobbit turned to Bard. His eyes widened when he spotted Fingfur. He dropped his shirt and rushed to Fingfur.

“Fingfur!” He threw his arms around the Dwarf, seemed to shy away almost immediately, but Fingfur wouldn’t let him. He wrapped his arms around Bilbo as well and held on tight. He even lifted the smaller male from the ground for a second. “Oh! It’s so good to see you! You are okay, right? Not injured?” Fingfur asked as he lowered Bilbo to the ground and looked him over critically. He immediately spotted the mark on Bilbo’s forehead, half hidden behind his hair. He reached out to softly brush the hairs away: “Are you okay? What happened?! Have you seen a Healer?!”

Bilbo batted his hand away: “I’m fine! Got knocked out halfway through the battle. How are the others? Everyone still alive?”

Fingfur nodded: “Looks like it. Kili is Regent until Fili or Thorin is better. Thorin was unconscious last I saw him, but Fili is apparently awake enough to help his brother with his duties. Bifur lost his axe, but is okay, for all I’ve heard. I’m not sure how Ori and Dori are, but Nori did not seem worried, so they should be fine. The rest are all healthy, apart from some bruising and flesh wounds.”

“Like yourself, Master Dwarf?” Bard asked nodding towards his leg. The scratch had started bleeding again while he was trying to keep up with Tilda.

“Just a flesh wound” he answered: “I’ll get it seen to when I return to the Mountain.” He turned to Bilbo: “Will you come with me?”

Bilbo grimaced: “I’m not allowed” he answered: “Thorin banished me.”

Fingfur shook his head at the foolishness of his own King: “And there is no way that the Regent can undo it” he answered: “I understand.” He took Bilbo’s hands into his own and smiled sadly: “You will be able to return to the Mountain, Bilbo, I promise.”

“I… I am not sure I want to” Bilbo said, looking away: “There are no pleasant memories there.”

Fingfur swallowed: “Then, will you allow me to return and talk to you here, in Dale?” he asked.

“If Bard allows it, I would like that” Bilbo answered, looking towards the Man.

“I see no reason as to why not” Bard answered: “I have no grievance with this Dwarf.” It was clear he meant to say there were Dwarves not allowed to come visit.

Fingfur turned back to Bilbo and squeezed his hand softly in order to gain his attention: “I have to go see a Healer, but I will return, Bilbo. I promise. Will you promise to still be here?”

Bilbo smiled a watery smile: “If you do not stay away too long. I am not sure when I will return to the Shire.”

“So you will not stay here?” Fingfur asked.

Bilbo shook his head: “A Hobbit does not belong in the world of Men, at least, this Hobbit doesn’t.”

“And if your banishment is revoked?” Fingfur asked.

“I will not return to the Mountain while Thorin is King” he answered: “Not while there is such grievance between us.”

Fingfur frowned: “I may not like it, but I will respect your wishes” he answered: “I know I cannot keep you here. If you do return to the Shire, though, be assured I will happily escort you.”

“Do you not wish to remain here?” Bilbo asked: “In the Mountain?”

Fingfur smiled: “I will return” he answered: “My mother still remains in the Blue Mountains and she has no one to pack her stuff for her while I remain here. I wish to take her to the Mountain. She will be happy to see it again and she will be of higher standing now that we have taken the Mountain. No need to work if I have a fifteenth of a share, now is there?” He grinned at Bilbo, which turned into a grimace as he felt his leg nerves spike. “Forgive me, I must see a Healer” he said and bowed towards the Hobbit. He then bowed to Bard and the ladies before turning around and limping away. He only looked back once to wave at Bilbo and Tilda: “See you soon, Master Baggins!”

 

* * *

 

The work in the Mountain was heavy. There were no spider webs - even the little cretins kept away from the dragon – but there was still more than enough work getting rid of the mess left by Smaug. Luckily the Dragon was wise enough to leave his droppings away from his hoard, meaning in a field near Dale, and when he stopped feeding – once all the Dwarves were dead – he lived of the sheer energy the gold produced in him. Still, there were small mountains of shed skin and the occasional scale they found between the gold. Gold that needed to be counted. After a week the first of Dain’s dwarves arrived in order to help in the Mountain. There were also pathways that needed to be cleared and inspected.

The Company went to work as well. Balin helped Kili and Fili rule while the latter was still on bedrest and the former refused to leave his side. Thorin was still unconscious for long periods of time. Dwalin took his guarding of the King to be the most important job he could do, and when he rested Bifur took over from him. Bofur was helping clear the pathways and inspect them, as he had much experience from his time as a miner. Bombur made sure everyone was fed, while Dori made sure no one was fed _too much_. They did not have the storage to have luxurious feasts if they wanted to make it through the winter. The little Dain had been able to spare was rationed carefully. Ori helped as the Royal Scribe to write down all the decisions Fili and Kili – and Balin – made. Nori was for some reason nowhere to be found – to the grumbling of both Gloin and Dwalin, who were sure he was up to something. Gloin took the job of Royal Banker, meaning he had to make sure everything was counted properly and stored safely. Oin was the main Healer looking after both wounded royals and told everyone around him he had no time to do any other kind of job because keeping those two in bed was a full time one – even though Thorin was unconscious most of the time.

Fingfur had, somehow, been appointed the job of main negotiator. He had to move from Erebor to Dale and back every day and sometimes more than once. He kept in close contact with Bard and Bilbo, but also with the Elf Galdor, who had been sent as main negotiator by King Thranduil and Tauriel, for whom he had many a letter from Prince Kili. It was simple work, but not very rewarding; little had been achieved in the weeks he had spent running from one place to another. Well, not really running, Lord Dain had lent him one of his mountain goats to get everywhere faster, but it sure as hell felt like he was all over the place. He could hardly wait for the new arrivals from Dain’s court to come over and lessen the load.

 

* * *

 

Fingfur wished he had never _heard_ of Dain’s court. Some of them had been part of the court of Thror and they felt entitled to everything, even though they had fled to the nearest Dwarven kingdom and hid there, while their people starved. They seemed to be unable to listen to the Princes – or maybe they were just deaf – because they all shouted at each other about how the kingdom should be ruled. Well, not _all_ of them, but most of them, anyway. Fingfur was required to attend the sessions, as were most of the others of the Company. Fingfur felt lucky he only had to be there when the Elves and Men were discussed, he felt sorry for the other who had to be there all the time, especially Ori, who seemed clueless as to what to write down about what the old Dwarves shouted at one another.

Mostly the Dwarves of the council were kept under control by Dain, who had years of experience dealing with them – and also liked to shout – and Balin, who could make anyone feel stupid with a few well spoken words. They went too far, however when one of them said Dain should take over the rule from the two princes, and the others agreed. Dain tried to come between them, to tell them he had no intention of ever coming between the princes and the Kingdom, they were of the line of Durin, the main line, while he was more of a side branch. The council members ignored him this time though and Fingfur clenched his fist with the need to shut them all up, when someone did it for them.

Ori – from out of nowhere – slung a battle hammer against the table with such a crash that the stone table broke in half. Fingfur hadn’t even seen where the weapon came from, let alone been aware what the younger Dwarf was about to do.

Ori glared around him at the council members who stared back in shock, which was turning in contempt. Before one of them could open up their mouths he said: “And that will be the end of that discussion! Fili is the rightful heir to the throne of Erebor! He will rule while King Thorin is indisposed! And let that be the last of it!”

“Who are you to speak to us that way?” one of the council dwarves barked after a long silence.

“He’s Ori, son of Dill.” Dain reported, noticing the look of disgust on some of the council faces once they noticed he was a mother’s son. “He’s one of the few who were brave enough to follow our King on his quest.”

“He still has no right of speaking here” a snooty old Dwarf grumbled.

“More right than you have” a voice croaked from the door and they turned to find Thorin. He was leaning on the heft of his sword. His face was pale, but his eyes were like fire, glaring at the court in front of him. Dwalin was standing next to him. “I need to speak with my Company” Thorin said: “Will you gather them for me?” It was not sure to whom he spoke, but Ori bowed and ran off. Thorin stumbled and Dwalin reached out with a hand to catch him, but Thorin righted himself before he had to catch him. Thorin moved towards the small throne in the middle of the table. Fili had been seated there but he now helped his uncle in it. Thorin raised an eyebrow at his sister-son who shook his head lightly. “Very well, you are dismissed” he said, waving a hand at the council.

They spluttered as one, even though there were a few who just left with a bow towards the King.

Thorin narrowed his eyes at the ones who were still sitting there: “I said I wanted to speak with my Company! You are not part of that! Leave!”

The council seemed to understand noncompliance would bring a worse outcome and fled the council halls. Thorin sighed and seemed to sink into his throne. He then looked up and turned his blue eyes on Fingfur: “Fingfur! Where did you come from? I thought I heard you had survived, but I was sure my ears were betraying me. How did you survive that fall?”

“Pure dumb luck” Fingfur answered: “I don’t know what else it must’ve been.”

Thorin nodded slowly: “It seems we have all been lucky. I was sure Fili would die on Raven Hill.”

“And we were sure you would die by the hands of Azog on this side of the Misty Mountains” Kili spoke: “Or that we would never be free from the Elves.”

“Yes, Bilbo was a great help” Thorin said with a small smile.

Fingfur stiffened he was sure he had seen that look before… was Thorin in love?

Thorin said up straighter when Ori returned with the other Company members. He narrowed his eyes when he missed someone: “Where is Bilbo?”

Balin sighed when all of the others looked towards him to explain: “You banished him, Thorin, you know a Regent cannot make a banishment undone. For good reason, too, but in this instance perhaps, not.”

“Does anyone know where he is?” Thorin asked: “I remember telling him to go home. I thought I was dying.”

“You were” Oin answered: “Be glad you survived. I was sure you would not. It was a miracle in itself. I have not seen him since before the battle.”

The other Dwarrow looked at each other until Fingfur stepped forward: “I have seen him. Mister Baggins now lives in Dale with Bard and his daughters.”

They all started talking as one and Fingfur took a step back at all the noise coming towards him.

“Shazara!” Thorin shouted and the group quieted: “Fingfur… Why did he not come back?”

“He told me he was banished on pain of death” Fingfur answered bluntly: “And he told me he would not return while there was such grievance between you. I am still not sure what happened exactly, though.” He gave the other Dwarrows questioning looks, but they all avoided his eyes. Fingfur snorted and ignored them.

“Ori” Thorin looked towards the scribe: “Write this down. From this day forward Bilbo Baggins of the Shire and Bag End will no longer be banished! And he is hereby declared a dwarf friend! May he never betray the utmost trust Durin’s folk has given him” he uttered the formal words softly, no doubt remembering that it was not Durin’s folk that had been betrayed. He then turned to Balin: “Tell me, what do you know of the happenings in the Mountain while I was out? Bring me up to speed. I want to know everything!” he sagged in his throne as Balin took a book out of his deep pockets where he had written down what had been done every week since the Battle.

 

* * *

 

Four days later was Fingfur’s free day and he took that time to walk to Dale and talk to Bard and Bilbo about something other than treaties.

Bilbo was wringing his hands, standing on the steps of the citadel when Fingfur approached him.

“Master Baggins?” Fingfur asked: “Is something wrong?”

“You have to talk to Bard, Fingfur! Please hurry!” Bilbo was apparently quite frazzled because he did not even say mister before Fingfur’s name. Not that he needed to really, he just always did.

Fingfur took the steps two at the time – quite a feat for a Dwarf – and stopped next to the Hobbit: “What’s wrong?”

Bilbo wrung his hands together: “They have not got enough space ready for the coming winter. There is no way all the people of Laketown can be kept warm in Dale at the moment and the winter will start soon! They have even worse winters here than they do back home… Come on, you should talk to Bard.”

Fingfur followed Bilbo inside and found Bard standing by a table, talking to his council, which existed of the elder men of Laketown and a few elderly women. Fingfur recognised Percy immediately.

Bard looked up and nodded towards Fingfur, who gave a bow. There was talk of crowning Bard the Dragon Slayer the King of Dale – he would never hear of it himself – but even if he only became the Lord of Dale – which was the lowest he would be – he was still of higher rank than Fingfur and everyone around the Mountain owed him for the death of the dragon.

“You asked to see me?” Fingfur asked.

“Yes” Bard said, looking graver than normal. He did not seem to know where to start.

“Bilbo mentioned something about too little space for all of you to stay in during the winter?” Fingfur prompted.

“Yes” Bard said and sighed, looking more grim and weary than usual: “We have not the housing to protect the people of the cold winter weather this year. We would petition your king to be able to stay in the Mountain. We will of course pay for it, whatever it is, as long as at least our women and children can stay in the Mountain.”

Fingfur already felt his free day go to waste. He bowed to Bard: “I will return immediately to the Mountain to inform our King of your petition. I will return as soon as there has been a decision made.” He bowed again and turned around to leave. He stopped at the door and looked back: “I will make sure the decision is made as soon as possible, Lord Bard. You do not have to fear it will take a long time. I will return next week at the latest.” He then left and returned to the Mountain.

He never noticed the look Bard shared with his councilmen at the knowledge the King was once more ruling the Mountain.

 

* * *

 

Thorin was seated in a large chair in his study – or rather Balin’s study, who had taken over since Thorin could only decide on important things, and rested the rest of the day. They were just going over the amount of food they had for the winter when there was a knock on the door and Fingfur was called to enter.

“Fingfur?” Balin asked: “Is it not your day off?”

“Yes, indeed” Fingfur answered: “I went to Dale to spend some time with Bilbo, but I was urged to talk with Bard. They have a problem.”

“A problem?” Thorin asked: “They have a fourteenth share of the treasure? How big a problem can they have?!”

“Winter is setting in, your majesty” Fingfur said, after he had stiffened at Thorin’s word: “Bard pleads for at least shelter for the women and children.”

Thorin groaned rubbing his forehead his eyes clenched shut: “We have the space, but not the food to feed more mouths. We have not the food to feed everyone in the Mountain even!”

“Bard did not want this for free, my Lord” Fingfur said: “Perhaps it can be a trade? Sharing shelter and sharing food?”

Thorin looked thoughtfully, clearly thinking this over.

“It would be better for relations to ask for food instead of gold” Balin said, counselling his King in a soft tone: “May I remind his majesty that if he allows all of the Men in the Mountain a Hobbit is sure to follow?”

Thorin stiffened but then nodded: “We cannot just allow them entrance. I want a contract made.” He turned to Fingfur: “Return to Bard and ask him to come to us tomorrow after noon. We will discuss the rules that will have to be in place. I don’t trust all the Men in Dale. They could easily try to steal from the Treasury during the winter. Do we have enough Dwarves to guard it?” he asked Balin, who looked thoughtful.

“We might have to ask Dwalin” Balin said: “He knows more of his Majesty’s guard than any of us.”

Thorin rang a bell on his desk and a Dwarrow from the Iron Hills quickly entered the room and bowed to the King. “Brimir, I want you to go tell Dwalin he is needed immediately here” Thorin told the Dwarrow.

Brimir bowed and left the office quickly, they could hear him start to run as soon as he was out of the door.

“I’ll take my leave” Fingfur said, bowed, first to Thorin and then to Balin and left.

 

* * *

 

Fingfur borrowed one of the faster goats from the stables and was in Dale in record time. He abandoned the goat at the foot of the stairs to the citadel and ran up the stairs, two at the time – quite a feat for a dwarf. He opened a door quickly and walked into the Hall were Bard was standing with his council.

“You are faster back than I had thought” Bard said, looking suspicious.

“My King is considering accepting your proposal, but he wishes to make a contract between our people. He invites you to the Mountain tomorrow after noon.”

“Tell me, Master Dwarf, do you think he will accept our proposal?” Bard asked: “Should I even go to this meeting?”

“Yes” Fingfur answered: “You really should. When I left my King, he was already discussing a way to make your proposal acceptable for both our people. You are no longer dealing with a gold mad king, Lord Bard. Thorin will listen to your proposal and he will decide for the best of his people. I do not think leaving you to rot is what he thinks to be best.” Fingfur hesitated for a moment: “If you want to insure he will say yes, I must remind you that you have a Hobbit in your midst. Bilbo Baggins might be the key to make sure you will have shelter.”

“But he was banished” one of the councilmen spoke.

“He no longer is” Fingfur said: “His banishment was revoked four days ago, when King Thorin returned to his throne. He was named Dwarf friend. I do think it might be good to remind the King that a party of Men includes a Hobbit in this case.”

Bard nodded seriously. “We will meet your King tomorrow then. Perhaps you might rest the night? It seems you have run around a lot today.”

Fingfur smiled and shook his head: “Not to worry, I came by goat and will leave the same way. I’ll be back in the Mountain by dark. After a summer under the stars a Dwarf is happy to return under the stone. I will see you tomorrow.”

Bard nodded and Fingfur left the citadel for the second time that day, so much for a free day.

 

* * *

 

The next day Bard and his entourage entered the Mountain, to the surprise of the Company – and the disgust of most of the Iron Hill Dwarrows – a Hobbit was amongst them.

Thorin was once again seated on his throne when they entered the throne room, Balin and Dwalin where next to him. He was not wearing a crown this time and slowly rose once they came close enough.

“Master Bard, Master Baggins” Thorin said, nodding slowly.

Bilbo swallowed audibly, but Bard spoke: “King Thorin, thank you for meeting with us.”

Thorin nodded, winced and slowly lowered himself into the seat of the throne. “Fingfur mentioned you had too little space in Dale.” He motioned towards Balin: “Balin has written a contract. We wish for you to read it and see if you approve. There can be changes made. Ori will escort you and yours to a side room where you may review it at your leisure. Will you dine with us tonight? We do not have much, but you are welcome.”

Bard smiled: “We will see how long it takes to read. Please excuse us.”

Thorin nodded: “Any questions you might have can be asked to Ori. He will be able to answer them or send for Balin.”

Bard nodded, turned and followed Ori back over the long walkway. Bilbo quickly followed him, not looking back, his shoulders obviously tense.

Fingfur was then dismissed until Bard and his entourage were done with checking and proofreading the contract. He would be notified when they were ready for him again.

 

* * *

 

“Rough day, huh?” a voice came from next to Fingfur. He was leaning against the wall of his favourite tavern and looked up to see Dwalin standing next to him.

“You can say that” Fingfur answered: “I thought King Thorin and Bard would never see eye to eye.”

“Good thing Bilbo was there” Dwalin said in his gruff voice.

“Yes” Fingfur said and he smiled: “Our Hobbit is full of surprises.”

They fell silent and Fingfur wondered why Dwalin had sought him out. It was not normal for the taller Dwarf to make small talk.

Dwalin just seemed about to say something when Selien walked up to them and asked Fingfur for a dance. Fingfur smiled, handed his ale over to Dwalin and took her to the dance floor.

Dwalin closed his eyes and growled. This was not part of his plan.

 

* * *

 

The next day the Men started to move in. Fingfur was helping them find the rooms they needed and made sure they were big enough for the families. By the end of the day he was tired but got immediately cornered by Bard’s children and some other children, both from Men and the spare dwarfling that already resided in the Mountain.

“Please tell us a story, Mister Fingfur!” Tilda begged and so he sat down and made the children sit around him.

“What would you like to hear about?” he asked.

“Something about a princess!” One girl in the back said shyly.

“No, a fight with monsters!” A boy in the front was nearly jumping from the excitement.

“A hero story!” Tilda sighed: “But can the hero be a girl?”

“Girls can’t be heroes!” a boy said snootily.

“Of course they can!” Tilda said back, she turned to Fingfur: “They can be heroes, can’t they Mister Fingfur?”

“Of course they can” Fingfur said: “Now let me think. There has to be a story I can tell you about.” He pretended to think but he had a good idea on what story he wanted to tell them. “Okay then, this story begins in a land far to the East in a time long ago” he said: “And oddly enough it starts with a bath.”

“A bath?” Tilda asked, her face scrunched up: “What kind of a story starts with a bath?”

“Mine does” Fingfur said: “If I may tell it?”

Tilde nodded quickly.

“The bath was meant for a beautiful girl named Mulan” Fingfur said: “For on that day she would be chosen for a husband.”

“I am never getting married.” Tilda said with a huff.

And so Fingfur told the story of Mulan, who refused to get married and joined the army to fight the enemies – though he changed the Huns into Orcs, since he didn’t want to give the children the idea that Man fought each other. He made it scary, funny and got wonderful commentary from Tilda and some other kids throughout the story. The story ended with Mulan being the Hero of all the land and then he shooed the children to bed, even though they did not want to. “I will tell you what happened afterwards the next time we meet.” He smiled and got up to leave. He bumped into Dwalin the moment he turned around.

“They like you” Dwalin said, nodding towards the children.

Fingfur shrugged: “Some people do like my stories, no matter how farfetched they are.”

“I… I did not mean that” Dwalin said: “I just didn’t want you to get distracted. The road is never safe.”

Fingfur shook his head: “I can tell a story and watch the road, especially if we are with sixteen.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Fingfur stared at him, wondering what Dwalin was thinking being friendly with him all of a sudden. He had been the one who refused to take him with them on the quest. Why was he so nice? “Okay?” It came out more like a question than anything else.

“Would you like to go have a drink tomorrow with me and some of the rest of the company? Bofur planned a little get together now that Bilbo is in the Mountain.”

“Yes, I'd love to.” Fingfur figured he would have to try to keep the peace between Bilbo and Thorin. Mahal knew Thorin was not yet well enough to calmly meet Bilbo. Fingfur hoped they would remain somewhat calm and not go head to head with each other.

Dwalin smiled at him – something Fingfur could not remember him ever doing before in his direction – and said: “Great I'll meet you after work then!” before he turned around and walked away.

 

* * *

 

The get together Bofur had planned was great. Fingfur enjoyed socialising with the members of the company while there were no pressing matters to attend for any of them. Even Thorin and the princes had made sure they would not be disturbed during this time. Fingfur was telling Gloin, Oin, Dori and Balin about what had happened after he dropped from the Mountain and they were all surprised he had survived that fall. Balin especially seemed interested in this fact.

“Were we gone long when Beorn found you?”

“He went looking for me after he left you near Mirkwood, apparently” Fingfur answered. “He took me to his home and patched me up.”

“You were very lucky to survive in the first place” Balin said: “Though we are all very happy that you are still alive, of course.”

“Yeah, me too” Fingfur said: “I am not sad I missed the gold sickness, though, that must’ve been tough.”

Dori grimaced. “I can’t believe all of us suffered from it. I can’t believe I thought gold more important than my brothers. What if something had happened to Ori while I was obsessing over gold?!” He cried out.

“Though it could still happen to you” Balin said: “You have your own share of gold, any idea what you are going to do with it?”

Fingfur shrugged, having gained the attention of the other three who were wondering the same thing. The others had already told each other what they were going to do while they were waiting on the Mountain for Durin’s day. Bilbo had not been sure at the time, doubting he could even take all of that back to the Shire with him. Bombur was going to buy himself a tavern where he could cook to his heart’s content and make sure all his bairns would have enough to eat for their entire lives. Bifur was going to begin a toy shop with the help of Bofur and found the smiling faces they would get payment enough. Bofur would be a Watcher of the Northern Mines. The rest of their gold would remain in the treasury for the good of their people, though Thorin promised they could get some if they needed it. Gloin went back to banking to help his own family and Oin wanted to start a Healing Centre in the Mountain where all Dwarves could get healed, paying only what they could. Thorin supported him and offered him more money should he need it. Dori would start a teashop with books to read for the intellectual Dwarves. Ori had sought out most of the books and Dori would select the best spices for teas himself. Nori had only grinned for a moment and refused to say what he would do in the Mountain – causing Dori to huff and hit him over the head. Ori was to be Royal Scribe and Chronicler of the Journey. Balin was royal advisor and would remain so, but he went back to the luxurious ways of his life in the past. Dwalin would be Head of the Royal Guard and protect Thorin and the princes, as he had done most of his life. Fili, Kili and Thorin threw their money together to help their people and pay for the rebuilding. Now they just wanted to know what Fingfur would do with his money.

Fingfur smiled shyly: “I guess I’ll become a fabulist, like I always wanted.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to become one” Gloin said: “You never said anything.”

“Well, I made up enough stories on the journey here, did I not?” Fingfur asked.

Oin grumbled and the rest nodded in acquiesce.

“What are you talking about?” Dwalin asked as he came to stand between Balin and Fingfur, looking at Gloin in question.

“Aha” Balin said: “Did you know Fingfur wanted to become a fabulist, dear brother?” He nudged his brother with his elbow and grinned up at him.

“No” Dwalin said and turned towards Fingfur: “I did not know that! You were great at that story you told the little ones yesterday, they loved it!”

“Did I hear something about little ones?” Bilbo asked as he came to stand by them.

“Yes, Fingfur was telling them a story yesterday. That girl from Bard and some of the other Human children” Dwalin said gruffly.

“Which story was that?” Bilbo asked.

“Ah, I made it up” Fingfur answered, flushing.

“Well, you have to write it down!” Bilbo said enthusiastically: “You can’t keep telling it to everyone!”

“Maybe I will” Fingfur said and smiled.

“Speaking of little ones” Dori said: “Bofur said something about how he saw no less than ten little Hobbits in the Shire when we were there. I told him he must have been mistaken, how could there have been that many on such a small piece of land after all.” He seemed sure of himself but still looked at Bilbo wonderingly, as if wondering if any of it held any truth.

“Many?” Bilbo laughed: “I am surprised he did not see more. Hobbits have many faunts. My mother was one of twelve after all.”

Dori spluttered as if he could not believe his ears.

Balin looked intrigued: “Truly? Is that a normal number of – faunts, did you say?”

“Not really” Bilbo answered: “Most families have around five faunts. My grandparents were rich and willing enough to take on twelve. The Baggins family – from my father's side – was quite rich too, but grandma Baggins never wanted more than five. She once told me it was a respectable amount of children and she did not need any more. She also did not really want for my father to marry my mother, but the Tooks are quite influential in the Shire even if they aren’t totally respectable. My grandfather was the Thain when my father married my mother and he paid for the construction of Bag End. It was built of Took money for a Took, my mother by my father. He had great taste and a good eye for details, he did need help with the bigger picture though.”

“Wait a minute” Balin said at once: “Your grandfather was the Thain?!”

“Yes, but my uncle took over not too long ago.”

“Who is this Thain you are talking about?” came the voice of the reinstated King under the Mountain.

“The King of the Shire” Balin answered.

“I did not know Hobbits have a king” Fingfur said, frowning at Bilbo.

“That’s because we don't” he answered: “The Thain is not a king! He's just there for people who have problems they cannot fix themselves.”

Balin looked at him as if he had declared them all stupid. “Right he's only a mediator, leader of the Hobbit army and the one who’s seal approval has to be on any and all outsiders looking for work in the Shire. Tell me how that is not a king.”

“It just isn’t” Bilbo answered.

“The title is even passed down from father to son!” Balin exclaimed.

They had gathered the attention of the entire Company by now.

“Does that mean that Bilbo's mother was a princess?” Ori asked with childlike wonder.

The entire Company fell quiet, wondering to themselves what this meant. They ignored the cry of Bilbo: “Hobbits do not have a king!”

Thorin ignored him: “You're a prince?” He turned Bilbo towards him: “Why did you not say anything?”

“Because I'm not!” Bilbo shook his head: “There is no Hobbit king! The Thain is just there to keep the Shire safe, he does not give orders to anyone! We don't usually fight wars either, in case you forgot. I could not fight before I went with you, remember?”

Thorin nodded quickly, clearly not want to upset the Hobbit further.

“Perhaps you would like to explain the hierarchy of the Shire to me at a later date?” Balin asked: “For research purposes, of course.”

“Yes, very well” Bilbo answered: “It’s not that difficult to explain. We are not as complex as you Dwarves.”

Balin looked like he did not believe a word of what Bilbo had said, but he turned back to Dori and asked how the reparations were progressing around the market.

 

* * *

 

That winter the Mountain was packed. There were all sorts of Dwarves and Men and sometimes even Elves there. Thorin was having a hard time making sure that they all had a place to sleep. Especially since some of these Dwarves and Men believed they were supposed to have better bedding, or bigger rooms, or even _servants_ to take care of them. Thorin got into a shouting match with three Dwarven nobles, who had been Lords under his grandfather. He shouted at them there was no way they would be restored to their former rang when they left the people under there command to go live in the Iron Hills, and left them to face hunger and even death on the road to another place to live. He gestured to Bofur, who had just given an account of the Mines under his watch and told them he’d rather have Bofur in his council, because the Dwarf had worked to earn his trust. The Nobles had been horrified and returned to their rooms, murmuring to each other as they left. Thorin had given a look to Dwalin who nodded, but had done nothing else.

Fingfur was helping keep the peace between the Dwarves and Men, but they got on better than they had hoped for. It was mostly the Dwarves from the Iron Hills who believed they deserved better than the rest who caused incidents. One even had said to Bard’s face that he did not deserve the rooms he and his children had been given and that he should just vacate them so he could move in. Ori was there when it happened and socked the Dwarf in the jaw. The Dwarf screamed for the guard to take the impudent Dwarf away, but was surprised when the Dwarven Guards took _him_ instead of the small scribe. Ori smirked and told the guards to take him to their Captain and to tell Dwalin exactly what had happened. The Dwarf had spent a few nights in the cells and when he was let out, he was placed in the barracks, where the guard ‘could keep an eye on him’.

Bilbo took some time to warm up to Thorin once more, but at the end of the winter they were finally getting along enough to spend it civilly talking to each other, even when no one else was around.

The start of spring made an end at that.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo was adamant he return to the Shire and see how his house was doing and his family. There were some Dwarves who decided to return with him and head to the Blue Mountains to help their family move towards the Mountain. Fingfur was one of these dwarves. He, along with Bofur and Gloin, had decided to travel back and take care of their Families. He went back for his mother while Gloin went back for his wife and son and Bofur went to get Bombur’s wife and all the little ones. He had discussed it with his brother and cousin and they had decided that it would be better for Bombur to remain in the Mountain, for he was unable to make the travel back once more. Bifur would stay with Bombur so they could look after each other.

Thorin send a group of soldiers with them to keep them safe and make sure there was protection for all the Dwarrows who would return to the Mountain with them. He sincerely hoped that his sister would return with them to live in the Mountain once more. He gave them letters to take with them for Dis and others did the same for their families.

It was at the start of spring that they left for the Shire and the Blue Mountains.

 

* * *

 

“Take care of yourself brother” Oin said huffily as he hugged his brother to him.

“Don’t you worry none” Gloin answered: “And I’ll keep an eye on the little ones too, don’t you fret.”

Oin nodded: “You brought the ointment box I gave you?”

“Yes, mother” Gloin muttered: “You worry too much. Mari can handle any injury we might suffer on the road. She is an excellent healer, you trained her yourself, remember?”

Oin nodded: “Ok, off you go then!”

Fingfur hid a smile. In moments like these he wished he had a brother to look after him, but this was nice to see. He turned to say goodbye to the Ri brothers when he noticed Bard standing near him, smiling.

“You will be missed in this part of the world, Mr Fingfur” the man said: “We can’t convince you to stay?”

Fingfur shook his head: “I am sorry, your Majesty, but I have to make sure my mother has all she needs to travel to Erebor.”

“Well, we will look forward to your return in two years” Bard answered. He went with his hand through his hair: “Though I might be grey by then!”

“We will see” Fingfur answered. He bowed politely at the royal family of Dale and turned to say his own goodbyes to the Company.

 

* * *

 

They were helped through Mirkwood by the Elves, but all the Dwarves and even Bilbo was glad to see the other side of it. The Elves had not been kind and the Forest was as depressing as ever. Especially Fingfur and the guards had been affected since they had not gone through it before.

They were happily surprised to see Beorn waiting for them on the other side. Bilbo and Fingfur were especially happy to see him since they had been closest to them. The guards even dared question Gloin when he decided they would stay a week with Beorn. They would help him gather wood for the coming winter, since he had had little time because of the war.

The guards grumbled that they weren’t chosen to chop wood, but then Bilbo put his food down and said in no uncertain terms that if they did not help they would not eat and any who dared kill an animal on Beorn’s lands would be giving to the giant man to be punished.

The giant man seemed tickled by that command and happily invited them inside for bread and honey. Bilbo especially seemed very happy at the prospect of food. He even asked Beorn whether he could borrow the kitchen and some ingredients to make honey cakes. He baked them twice so he could take them with him over the Mountains.

“The Mountains should be nearly empty” Beorn answered: “Any stragglers who have tried to return have not made it past my lands. I hope you won’t have too many troubles.”

“As long as the Stone Giants aren’t fighting” Bofur muttered.

“Their mating rituals shouldn’t have started yet” Beorn tried to reassure them.

The Dwarves from the Company looked at him incredulously, they were mating?! Bilbo was too busy stuffing his face with bread and honey to worry about what the Stone Giants were doing.

 

* * *

 

There were tears on Bilbo’s face when they left Beorn’s house. He couldn’t promise the man that he would ever return, even though he had an open invitation to visit whenever he wanted.

Beorn escorted them to the edge of his land. The Company shared grim looks as they looked towards the Misty Mountains. It was never nice to have to go over the mountains, to do so again so soon did not make a difference. At least there would be less goblins since they had been defeated at Erebor.

 

* * *

 

They met no goblins in the Mountains and reached Rivendell with little problem. Lord Elrond greeted them warmly and allowed them to stay the night in order to rest and to store up some new food. Bilbo left them with a warmer feeling, he was finally going home! He wanted to see his home and his armchairs and books. Every step brought him closer to Bag End and the Shire.

He separated from the Dwarves in Bree and waved at them when they left towards the south.

He enjoyed the grass of the Shire when he reached it. He was unprepared for the battle that would be Bag End.

 

* * *

 

Fingfur heartily greeted his mother when he returned home and he enjoyed the feel of the Mountains he remembered best being home. On the other hand he could not wait for Spring to come again so that they could travel with the rest of the Dwarrow to the Lonely Mountain. They finally had their mountain back and it was so much better than the mountains of Ered Luin.

 

* * *

 

At the start of the thaw a Ranger appeared at Ered Luin with a letter for both Princess Dis and Fingfur.

Fingfur was surprised until the Ranger mentioned he had come from the Shire, where a Mr Baggins had paid him to send letters to Ered Luin. The Hobbit had even invited him to take dinner with him and the Ranger admitted it had been quite some time since he had eaten that well. When Dis heard his tale she declared he was welcome to join them for dinner as well, which was – because the long winter was ending – merely a thick stew.

“Word has reached my ear that you will move soon, my lady?” the Ranger asked: “Apparently Erebor has been retaken? My Chief is in contact with Lord Elrond” he explained at Dis’ look.

“Yes, we are leaving in early spring. Preparations are already being made” Dis answered: “We will travel by the High Pass near Rivendell” Dis answered: “My brother has contacted the Elven King of Mirkwood to help us cross the forest.”

“All the best in your travels, than, my lady” the Ranger said.

Fingfur excused himself not late after and went to his home in the Mountain to read the letter Bilbo had written him.

 

_Dear Fingfur,_

_I hope you and the others of your company have reached the Mountains hale and whole. I also hope you had a warmer welcome than I had upon your return. I found my smial ransacked and my possessions sold. I have gotten most of them back but Lobelia Sackville-Baggins still hoards my spoon. Sometimes I think she is worse than the Dragon!_

_Now that I am back here I can relax in my armchair – after I had found it again – and smoke my pipe in peace. I do miss all you Dwarrow and the rambunctious way you do everything. I have been thinking about it all this winter and decided that I’d like to join you on your way back to the Mountain._

_I hope to see you in Bag End at the end of winter,_

_With highest regards,_

_Bilbo Baggins._

* * *

 

Fingfur found it nice to return to Bag End. He had travelled ahead of the Dwarves and arrived in Bag End with time to spare. Once Bilbo was ready they would meet the others in Bree.

Fingfur found it funny that he would start again where the quest started.

He opened the gate and walked the small path to the door. He knocked on the door.

“Just a moment!” someone shouted from inside and Fingfur waited patiently until Bilbo opened the door and grinned when he saw him.

“Fingfur! You are here. I never heard of you so I wasn’t sure if you’d come!”

Fingfur bowed for him before he smiled at Bilbo: “Your letter arrived late and we weren’t sure a letter from us would reach you in time. Do you need help packing?”

“No, no, there is little I might need” Bilbo said: “And everything I do need I got on a small wagon. I’m sure my ponies will easily carry the load.” He grinned at Fingfur: “I went back to the Troll Hoards and dug up the money that Gloin and Nori buried. There was quite enough to buy a wagon and some other necessities for the road.”

“And what about Bag End?” Finfur asked as he entered the home behind Bilbo.

“It will go to my cousin Drogo” Bilbo answered: “He’s one of the less infuriating cousins I have. I do hope he’ll take care of it, but I doubt it somehow. He has a fancy for overeating.” Bilbo led Fingfur into the kitchen: “Oh, but listen to me blabbering on. You must’ve missed lunch, can I offer you something? There’s some great bread fresh from the market place… some cold scraps from breakfast… I can fry you an egg if you’d like? Perhaps some tea to go with it?” he turned to Fingfur: “You weren’t expecting to leave right this instant, were you?”

Fingfur shook his head: “No, my dear Bilbo. I don’t think we have to leave until tomorrow morning. Tonight we might have the last night of rest until we reach Erebor.”

Bilbo swallowed, Fingfur was undoubtedly right.

 

* * *

 

They joined the caravan in Bree and followed it down towards the Gap or Rohan, after which they went north and at the end of autumn found themselves in Dale.

 

* * *

 

“Bilbo!” came a cry as the tired Dwarves made their way through the streets of Dale. They had travelled a long distance and only the sight of the mountain had kept them going for the last week.

Bilbo embraced the human child that called for him: “My, my, Tilda, you’ve grown quite a bit since I’ve last seen you.”

“It’s been two years and da said you might never return!” Tilda told him. She looked as if that very thought insulted her.

“Yes” Bilbo said: “When I left I did not think I would return, but once I was in Bag End I found myself missing the East.” He smiled at her: “I missed my armchair and my garden, but I brought my armchair with me and I’m sure I could find somewhere to garden. It might take a while for it to be as good as the one in Bag End, but it will blossom like no garden ever did in the East after the Hobbits left.”

“Your people used to live here?” Bard asked, coming to stop behind his daughter. He smiled: “Welcome back, Mr Baggins.”

Bilbo smiled back: “Long before we settled in the Shire. We used to live next to the Great River. We left when it was no longer safe for us. We settled in the Shire, now we only remember we once lived here. Only the scholars, probably, because little is written down from the period before the Settling of the Shire. We left because of a danger, but we would now not even return if we could. Hobbits belong in the Shire and that is where we’ll stay.”

“And yet here you are, on the other side of the world, with nothing more than a cart of belongings” Bard answered: “It seems one Hobbit has returned to the lands near the River.” He smiled at Bilbo.

Bilbo was glad that Bard was no longer the grim boats man he once was. “I found myself missing the east when I returned to the Shire. I left my house to my cousin and now I will remain here till the end of my days.”

“Very poetic” Dis said, grinning at the Hobbit she had come to like on their travels: “First let’s get to the Mountain shall we.”

Bilbo looked up at the towering Mountain.

Bard placed a big hand on his shoulder: “You are, of course, allowed to stay with us, if you prefer.”

Bilbo pulled up his backpack and smiled at Bard: “That won’t be necessary. I am returning to the Mountain. I’ve waited long enough to see the great city of the Dwarves in all his glory.” He smiled at Bard and Tilda: “But of course I will return here often, if I am welcome.”

“There will always be a place for you in Dale, Mr Baggins” Bard answered.

“Thank you” Bilbo said.

“Come along, lad. Thorin must be expecting us by now” Gloin said, putting his hand on Bilbo’s back and pushing him a little bit.

Bilbo waved at the Men as he walked through the town on the way to the Mountain. He was almost home.

 

* * *

 

The King was waiting for them when they arrived at the gate. Thorin spread his arms and welcomed them all back into the Mountain, even those who had never seen the Mountain in their life.

“Is it as you remember?” Fingfur asked his mother.

“Better” she sighed at him: “Have you a place for us to stay?”

Fingfur had been living with other Dwarrow in a small room, where they had put some straw on the floor before he left for the Blue Mountains. It was no place to stay with his mother.

“It has been two years since I’ve been here” Fingfur said: “I am sure we can find some place to sleep for the night and see about accommodations tomorrow.”

A hand clasped him on the shoulder before they could move towards an inn. Fingfur turned to find Dwalin behind him. The rough Dwarrow gave him a small smile: “I’d like to invite you and your mother into my and Balin’s home for the night. There is no need for you to find a bed somewhere else.”

“If you are sure” Kishel answered, looking Dwalin up and down.

“Positive” Dwalin said.

“Thank you” Fingfur said: “We will find some place to stay tomorrow, amad.”

Kishel nodded and they followed Dwalin to the rooms Balin and he had picked when the rooms had been checked after the long Dragon years.

Balin wasn’t at home when they entered and Dwalin showed them a place to stay. There were multiple guest rooms and Fingfur was so glad to sleep in a bed that he quickly told the others good night and headed to bed.

 

* * *

 

Fingfur woke early the next morning and it took him awhile to understand where he was. He was glad that he was in the Mountain again. The stone surrounding him made sure he felt way better than he ever did outside.

His good mood plummeted when he entered the kitchen and saw his mother’s look. She only had that look when she was laughing at his expense. It was never good for him when she did that. There was something different about her, also. He gave her a thorough look over.

“Mother? Did you get a necklace? In _one_ night?”

She smiled widely: “Why yes, dear, I did. It’s a courting gift.”

“A courting gift? But mother? Aren’t you wedded to your craft?” Fingfur asked: “Please tell me you let them down gently.”

“I did not let them down, dear” she answered. At his befuddled look she patted his hand: “Don’t worry dear, everything will become apparent soon.”

“If you say so” Fingfur said, still very confused.

“Good morning” Balin said as he entered the kitchen: “Sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you, Lord Balin” Kishel answered.

“Please call me Balin” he answered: “We’re practically family.”

Fingfur furrowed his brow, where they practically family because of the quest? To be honest, Fingfur had missed most of the terrible things that bound the rest of the Company for life. None the less, he was still part of the Company of course.

“Where is Dwalin?” Fingfur asked: “Is he not having breakfast with us?”

“I’m afraid Dwalin has already left to help His Majesty with his rounds.”

“I would assume that’s your job” Fingfur asked.

“I only have to advice when he needs it. For rounds there is hardly any need. Dwalin and Thorin can usually solve those problems themselves. Otherwise I’m just a messenger away.”

Fingfur nodded.

Kishel stood and stretched: “I suppose we better find a new residence and a job.”

“Fingfur has a fifteenth share” Balin said: “You will never have to work a day in your life.”

“So do you” Kishel answered: “And you are not sitting here twiddling your thumbs. Even if I was not Craft wed, I would still be a Dwarrow. We are not meant to sit still and do nothing. That is not the way the Maker has made us.”

“That’s true” Balin answered: “Mayhaps I can help. What sort of job are you looking for?”

“My craft is the making of fine jewellery, but if there is no need for that weaving is my second choice.”

“I am sure there will be a job for a jeweller in the Mountain” Balin said: “Especially since you don’t need to really make money to have a living. In the beginning it might be a bit tough as people restore their wealth, but soon there will be need for jewellers to at least outfit the ladies of court.” He looked thoughtful for a while: “I should mention you to Lady Dis, I’m sure she will need some new jewellery now that she has the money to buy some. As well as the other ladies who are part of our Company.”

“I thought only Lord Gloin and Bombur were married?” Kishel asked.

“Bombur has been blessed with five daughters if I’m not mistaken. None of them are full grown, but that does not mean they do not like something pretty to wear. Then there are the Dwarrows of the Company who would like to wear something gold for their days in court.”

“Including you, Lord Balin?” Kishel asked.

“Oh, I haven’t thought about it” Balin said, hands going through his beard: “I might have a necklace fitting to my station.”

“In gold? What kind of gems were you thinking of?”

“No, gold does not suit me I think. Silver might be better” Balin answered: “I was thinking about rubies, since they are my House colours.”

“Let me find some parchment and sketch a few” Kishel answered: “The necklace will have to show your new station as lord of Erebor, of course.”

“Ori in the Library will probably give you some parchment if you ask” Balin answered: “Especially when you tell him who you are.”

Kishel nodded and left to her room to ready for the day.

Balin turned to Fingfur: “You okay, laddie? You are silent. What job were you thinking of taking?”

Fingfur shrugged: “I am a storyteller. That’s not really a craft you can make much of a living of. I suppose I will work some more in one of the other crafts or something.”

“But, laddie, you don’t have to” Balin said, putting a hand on his shoulder: “Go tell stories on the market place for the dwarrowlings. That should keep them happy and out of the way for their mothers. If you get some money, great, but you don’t need it. You are a Lord of Erebor now, you will never have to have a normal job. If you tire of the market you can go write some stories down or tell them to a scribe for him to write down and add them to the library.”

“I could write the story down and have a scribe copy them into a good book.” Fingfur was thoughtful. He had more stories to tell than anyone he knew. “I’ll go see Ori in the library for some parchment then.”

“Very good” Kishel said, from where she entered the kitchen: “You can join me. I hate roaming these halls alone.”

Fingfur smiled as his mother took his arm and they left the house together.

 

* * *

 

“Fingfur, son of Lesur, adopted of Kishel, will you give me the honour of courting you?” Dwalin asked.

Fingfur stiffened. He had been back in the Mountain for three weeks now. Why would Dwalin want to court him? Was he…?

Dwalin looked at him, awaiting his answer. Fingfur knew he wanted him to say yes. Would he? Courting did not mean bonding by any means. If he was Dwalin’s One, there was a good reckoning the opposite was true. Maybe a courting would help him figure it out.

“I’d be honoured” he answered, bowing his head.

Dwalin seemed to sag in relief before he handed the bundle to Fingfur. It was the first gift. The gift was to show his intended’s craft.

“As you know my craft is that of a Warrior” Dwalin said: “I looked to what to make regarding that and this was the best I could come up with.”

Fingfur was surprised to find a book when he opened the package.

“As a storyteller I am sure you will find use for a book about the battles I fought in” Dwalin said. His cheeks were slightly red.

“Thank you” Fingfur said, cradling the book to his chest. Then something jumped into his mind: “Did you give that necklace to my mother?”

Dwalin nodded: “When I asked her permission. She wasn’t sure if I were your One.”

Fingfur shrugged: “Neither am I, but I don’t believe Mahal would’ve made me your One without the opposite being true. You’ll have to convince me” he smiled at Dwalin. “What will be our first outing?”

“I was thinking we could go to the Inn in the Noble district?” Dwalin offered.

“If you really want to” Fingfur answered: “But it think we are more suited for the Silver Sickle in the mining district.”

“Right you are, my One” Dwalin answered: “Let’s go there. They might have more songs about the battle I haven’t heard yet.”

Fingfur laughed: “When do you want to meet?”

 

* * *

 

Fingfur entered the Silver Sickle. Some of the Dwarrows looked at him as he entered but most went back to their drink.

“Fingfur, my lad! What makes you grant us your presence?” Bofur asked, from where he was seated between other miners.

Fingfur smiled at the hatted Dwarrow: “I’m here for a courtship outing.”

“Really?” Bofur asked: “And who is the lucky Dwarrow?”

“That would be me” Dwalin’s low voice came from behind Fingfur.

“Ah Dwalin, finally got the guts to ask him, eh?” Bofur asked.

“You knew?” Dwalin asked.

“If you wanted to keep it a secret, you should’ve tried harder” Bofur answered: “Was afraid I had to chase the suitor away, I was.”

Fingfur laughed: “I think I would’ve had something to say about that, Bofur.” He then turned to Dwalin: “Shall we?”

“Good evening, Bofur” Dwalin said before he led Fingfur to a table out of the way.

The innkeeper came by quickly: “What will it be, gentle Dwarrow?” she asked.

“A dark ale” Fingfur said.

“The same” Dwalin ordered: “What’s on the menu tonight?”

“It’s a hearty stew, today, my Lord” she answered.

“Let’s have two of those, with some bread” Dwalin answered.

“Be wrong to have it without” the Dwarrowdam answered as she walked away.

Dwalin turned to Fingfur: “You were talking about the book you were writing?”

Fingfur smiled and settled in for a pleasant evening.

 

* * *

 

“Bilbo! How are you?” Fingfur asked as he came up behind the Hobbit.

“Very well” Bilbo said, before he looked hesitant. “Can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal?”

“You can ask, I won’t promise to answer.”

“Thorin and I have been spending a lot of time together, and we’ve forgiven each other. But now… He has given me a gift. I think it means something, but I’m not sure.”

“Did he tell you something about it when he gave it to you?”

Bilbo nodded: “I have no idea what, though. He spoke Khuzdul.”

Fingfur groaned. The official words were spoken in Khuzdul when someone gave a courting gift. Thorin as King was supposed to follow those traditions to the letter. And he had, but he had not told Bilbo what he had asked.

“What did you tell him?” Fingfur asked.

“I thanked him, he smiled and left” Bilbo said.

Now it only came to one more question: “What did he give you?”

“A frying pan and a new pen. He made them himself, I recognised his mark.”

“Bilbo” Fingfur said and took him by his shoulders and looked him in his eyes, bending a little to do so: “That was a courting gift. You have accepted by thanking him. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Bilbo spluttered.

“Nothing says you have to go on with the courtship. You can stop it whenever you want. Until you have given him your gift it’s just a courtship. Once you have given him a gift you will be engaged. After that it normally doesn’t take long for there to be a bonding.”

“I need to know more about courtships and bonding” Bilbo decided. “I assume there are books in the library?”

“Yes I’m sure Ori will help you” Fingfur said: “Are you okay with the courtship?”

Bilbo nodded: “I don’t think it is much of a surprise to you that I like Thorin a lot.”

Fingfur smiled: “Not really, but I did not know how Hobbits look towards same sex relations or how you felt about becoming King Consort.”

Bilbo choked on air: “I forgot about that.”

“If you love Thorin it should not make a difference.” Fingfur answered.

“Yavannah made us to love ourselves as we are, including those who love the same gender. Some of our hobbit men even are able to have children.”

“Including you?” Fingfur asked.

Bilbo shook his head: “I don’t think so, even if I could, I’m too old to do so.”

“Probably for the best. Few Dwarrow would allow a halfblood on the throne, I think” Fingfur said: “Best if Fili becomes King after Thorin. Kili can go be happy with his Elf and you don’t have to worry about any heirs.”

“I have to worry about Fili and Kili, that’s enough for me right now” Bilbo answered: “And maybe I’ll have baby nephews or nieces once they are bonded.”

Fingfur laughed and ushered Bilbo to the library. Seemed that Bilbo already had made up his mind about bonding with Thorin. It would be a sight, seeing a Dwarrow marry a Hobbit. Maybe they would wear flowers in their hair. Bilbo with braids would also be a sight to see.

He chuckled as he turned and walked the other way.

 

* * *

 

Fingfur had spent time in many universes. Beginning with the time he went to Hogwarts and became the Master of Death. Every time he died he came to a new universe and went through the strangest things. Sometimes he found someone to love, like he did here, with Dwalin. Sometimes he was tired of having to miss his loves and didn’t go looking for anyone. Actually, he rarely looked himself, mostly someone else found him. He never regretted any of his loves, even if he might forget about his life with them over time. Dwalin would be no different. At least he wasn’t a woman in this universe. Vaginal sex was so weird. No one looked weird when he wore dresses, though. He’d easily got used to them because of all the robes he used to wear. Luckily Dwarrows wore similar cut robes.

Fingfur was convinced. Dwalin was his One. He had taken quite awhile to get here, but he was certain. There would be no other for him in this life. He only wondered what Dwalin would think when the Dwarrow would wake again and he would not be there. He would be on his way to another universe by then.

Dwalin would never believe that he came from another world. He could not tell him. He could make sure the time they had together was the best they ever had, though.

One month later he handed Dwalin his courting gift. A book about all kinds of Warriors and the stories of their adventures. The month after they bonded before Mahal, with Thorin tying their knot.

Later stories would be written about the Guardsdwarrow and the Storyteller. They all ended the same way. The Storyteller would die to young from chest rattle and the Guardsdwarrow would only survive to defend his King and Mountain. He passed away in the War of the Ring, defending his King, his axes in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!  
> Do any of you have any universes in which I could write Harry? It can be anything you want. I can't promise I have heard of it, but what I do not know I can figure out!  
> Hope you liked it! Please leave a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> This was something stuck in my head and it had to get out. I think the next part will be this from Dwalin's point of view and then the end of our story. I based this story on the movie, since it's so different from the book. (Whoever said Ori was the youngest? In the book Thorin says Fili is het youngest, which is weird, because in the movies he seems older than Kili.) If this becomes a succes I might think about writing more short crossovers.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Incido


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